


waiting for the moment to find me

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, POV Multiple, Possession, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), slash fixing uprising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “I want you back, baby,” Newt says softly. “Do you think I would buy expensive champagne for just anyone?”“Do you think,” Hermann pauses, setting his jaw with determination, “that calling me a pet name I despise and ordering me expensive food will win me back after the callousness with which you broke up with me?”in which Hermann realizes something's wrong with Newt and decides the only way to save him is to date him





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The working title of this fic was "Hermann Won't Put Out" which...he had good reasons, but this means noted. This was inspired by a dream I had about a character from iZombie, basically what I'm saying is tonally this is very different from what I usually write.
> 
> Please note that all sexual content in this fic is consensual but there's a lot of internal dialogue about consent etc so if that's an issue with you, it might be best to avoid. There's also some relationship behaviors that are unhealthy but are clearly observed to be the work of not the person forced to act them out. 
> 
> Taking a lot of liberties here with drift science as well, because if DeKnight can do it, so can I, right?
> 
> This fic takes place approx 2 years after the first film and is my own exploration of the slow possession of one Newton Geiszler. POV shift is straightforward- final section of each chapter is Newt POV.
> 
> This IS complete, I'm just posting by chapters to...delay the inevitable.
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to the Trash Snakes (you know who you are) for your cheerleading during the writing process. And to seeingrightly as always for talking out ideas with me.

It begins with a dinner invitation. Hermann hasn’t seen Newt in a year and a half, since he left to work for Liwen Shao and her billion dollar start-up. Since they ended their relationship officially, though it had been fading away for several months prior. After the drift, after their few months of bliss, things fell profoundly apart. And now? Maybe there’s a chance for them to be pieced together.

It’s a bit suspicious how Newt even knows he’s in Shanghai, but he doesn’t question it. Maybe he’d let it slip in the last email he sent off. The truth is, he couldn’t bring himself to mope around Hong Kong for a day longer and Tendo, set up in his new civilian job with wife and child, offered his friend a respite from the heavy weight of a still uncertain future. Hermann doesn’t let himself think of the fact that he knows Newt is in the same city when he settles in to stay for a few months.

Hermann knows that Newt’s job came with a major pay increase, but he feels this acutely when Newt sends a very large town car to retrieve him. He fidgets in the backseat, wondering why he needs such an elegant vehicle for such a short ride to a restaurant. There’s a mini bar and he debates having a few drinks, using some of Newt’s apparently excessive money to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. The logical part of his brain tells him that drinking hard liquor will only make his stomach feel more uneasy and he’s glad the logical part of his brain almost always wins.

He’s not sure how Newt has changed in this time. He’s seen a few photos, either sent by Newt himself or a quick glance at his social media (Hermann only maintains empty profiles for himself, largely to check in with his siblings and their families), but photos don’t often do someone justice.

When he arrives at the restaurant, the first thing he feels is profoundly underdressed. He’s wearing a dark colored shirt and trousers, something nondescript, something Newt can’t tease him for but also something that isn’t designed to get his attention. The last impression he wants to give is one of desperation. He doubts he’ll be seen that way, however, given all the suit jackets around the room. He stamps down memories of his first date with Newt, drinking cheap beer at a karaoke bar as Newt sang a very bad rendition of “I Want Your Sex” while making far too pointed of eye contact with Hermann (at that point in time, they’d been sleeping together for several months.) Life is full of changes, and this isn’t a date anyway. It’s dinner.

The urge to turn and run the other way has overcome him when he catches Newt’s eye across the room. Newt’s face shifts from a bored, listless expression to something bright and Hermann finds that he can’t move from the spot he’s in for a few very long moments. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Newt rises to his feet, stepping forward and wrapping Hermann in an embrace. Hermann blushes at the contact. He’s far better with PDA than he once was, but that doesn’t mean it’s something he wants thrust upon him in a restaurant. Especially a restaurant where he’s already standing out. The only relief is the dim lighting that surrounds them.

“Hermann!” Newt exclaims, taking a step back. “Been a long time. You look fantastic, have a seat.”

Newt walks him back to the table, resting a hand a bit too comfortably on the small of his back. He even pulls out the chair for Hermann, waiting until he’s seated to sit across from him.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us some champagne,” Newt continues.

“Are we celebrating something, Newton?” Hermann asks, eyeing the very expensive champagne sitting in a bucket on the table.

“Isn’t it always a chance for celebration when we’re together?” Newt asks, plucking the bottle out of the bucket so he can pour Hermann a glass, then another for himself.

“I don’t believe that’s what you said last time I saw you.” Hermann picks up his glass, holding it out to Newt. “To-”

“To us,” Newt supplies, meeting Hermann’s eye as he clinks their glasses together.

The champagne goes down easy, and Hermann drinks half of his glass in his first taste. Newt seems more than happy to top up Hermann’s glass and Hermann hopes that Newt fully intends to pay for this entire bottle.

Judging by the quality of Newt’s deep blue suit, money is definitely no longer a concern for him. Underneath it, he wears a black shirt, with the top two buttons undone. His hair is slicked back in a way that makes Hermann want to run his fingers through it, in the hopes of destroying the artificial neatness, and the glasses he’s chosen to wear seem far too sleek for Newt’s style.

To avoid staring, Hermann looks down at the menu in front of him, trying not to audibly comment on the absurd prices. Hopefully Newt intends to fully pay for everything, or else Hermann may become bankrupted by a single meal.

“I recommend the swordfish personally,” Newt suggests. “I know you often crave a nice seafood meal.”

“Do you come here often, then?” Hermann asks, putting his menu aside and picking up his glass. He imagines Newt in official business dinners and has to keep from laughing at the thought. It’s a more palatable thought than thinking of him on dates, anyway.

“Often enough.” The waiter arrives then and Newt orders for both of them. Hermann forgets that he didn’t tell Newt that he’ll have the suggested swordfish. It’s not worth arguing when he’s getting the food he wants anyway, but Newt should know that Hermann hates other people doing things for him.

“For work?”

“Usually.” Newt winks at him and takes a sip of his champagne. “I like to hope tonight is for pleasure and not for business.”

The way Newt says pleasure is a bit too pointed and Hermann is certain, less than ten minutes into his dinner, that he’s being propositioned. Surely, Newt can find someone less painful to seduce than an ex-boyfriend he left less than two years prior. 

“The pleasure of catching up with an old friend,” Hermann states, firmly.

“Oh, Hermann, we were much more than friends, weren’t we?” Newt starts to rub his ankle against Hermann’s under the table and Hermann is glad for the dimly lit room, because his face turns rather red.

“I don’t like to view romantic relationships as more or less than friendships, but we were something other than friends, correct. And then we agreed to remain friends, so that is the label I use.”

“We don’t have to be friends, you know.”

Hermann reaches for his cane where it’s hooked on the edge of the table. He’s not come all the way out to this restaurant he doesn’t belong in to be humiliated by the man he used to love. Before he can rise to his feet, though, Newt’s laid a hand on his hand, after physically dragging his chair closer to Hermann.

“I want you back, baby,” Newt says softly. “Do you think I would buy expensive champagne for just anyone?”

“Do you think,” Hermann pauses, setting his jaw with determination, “that calling me a pet name I despise and ordering me expensive food will win me back after the callousness with which you broke up with me?”

“I think you know as well as I do that we’re best together and miserable apart. I think you know how valuable you are to me and that there’s more pros than cons to dating me right now.”

The word valuable finds its way to Hermann’s mouth and he finds himself mulling it over, mouthing it to himself. That’s never a word he’d use to profess his love and affection for someone, and certainly not something Newt would say. In fact, it’s devastating that he’s fantasized about this very thing and it hasn’t involved Newt calling him “dude” and fumbling through his words, earnest and overeager as he is in everything he does in his life.

“I would have to think over this...proposition, to tell you the truth. Even if we were very happy together.”

“We could be happy together again,” Newt says, and his voice picks up a slightly cautious tone that melts something deep inside Hermann. “I think there’s a future for us.”

“I need to think it over, as I said. You- you hurt me. Deeply.”

“Consider this dinner an apology, Hermann.”

“I’d prefer you apologized with actions and not a meal in a place that make me feel foolish and underdressed.”

“Underdressed? What does that matter when you’re the most handsome man in this place?”

“Please stop, Newton.” Hermann suspects Newt said this to flatter him, but it only makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. He knows Newt is attracted to him, obviously, but Newt also wouldn’t say something as flippant as that. “You’ve changed.”

“All for the better, honey.”

Newt moves his hand from on top of Hermann’s to his knee, giving it a playful squeeze. Part of Hermann wants to give in, make this easy. He has the chance to be with Newt again, even if it’s a ploy to sleep with him for a night. Another part is righteously angry at Newt for playing with his emotions like this, for treating everything so carelessly.

“I don’t think you get to say that. Can we please enjoy the rest of the meal in peace? I can’t give you an answer right now. Or even tonight.”

He’s staring down at Newt’s hand on his knee when he finishes his sentence and Newt takes the hint, withdrawing his hand to drum his fingers across the table. It’s the least calculated action Newt’s done with his limbs so far.

The rest of dinner is civil enough. They talk about their work and their lives and once or twice Newt becomes so animated in talking that Hermann wants to kiss him right then and there. The rest of the time, he eyes him warily, like he’s sizing up something that might want to eat him. There’s an unkindness in this, he thinks, towards Newt who had loved him and until their breakup had been nothing but compassionate in their relationship. There’s also something that doesn’t add up, when he tries to reach out to Newt through the remnants of their drift, he’s given the equivalent of static, the dull throb of elevator music in his head. If he listens closely enough, he can pick up a thread that is distinctively Newt, anxiety and an odd sense of excitement, but that’s it.

Dessert is a less platonic ordeal, as Newt takes it upon himself to order some indulgent fruits and cream. He holds out a strawberry, dipped in the cream, expectantly to Hermann and Hermann surprises even himself when he takes the bite. There’s a smear of cream remaining on Newt’s finger, which Newt licks off before reaching for another. At the offer of a second strawberry, Hermann holds out his hand, refusing to be fed further.

“I’m an adult man, and I think you should enjoy your dessert as well,” Hermann insists.

The way Newt eyes him then has Hermann fully convinced this is a creature that wants to eat him.

“Oh, I’m not hungry anymore,” Newt answers, and his crooked grin flirts the line between endearing and dangerous. 

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight,” Hermann states, after taking a bite out of a strawberry. “I want to make that abundantly clear to you, Newton.”

“Not tonight, I know. I can still enjoy the pleasure of looking at you, can’t I?” Newt reaches up, adjusts Hermann’s collar. He slides two fingers underneath, stroking the soft skin there for just a moment before he withdraws.

“You don’t have to play games with me, either.” Hermann refuses to react, even though every part of his body is screaming at him to do so. “If you had asked me to consider seeing you again over email, I’d have considered it all the same. This dinner does nothing to further your cause but waste your money.”

“But it’s so much more fun this way,  Hermann.”

Hermann’s face melts into a scowl, but Newt looks far too pleased with himself. He can only bring himself to stomach a few more of the berries before he’s ready to leave and have the evening behind him. Between the two of them, they’ve had the whole bottle of champagne, Newt a bit more than Hermann, but it’s not enough to explain this behavior. They used to share a bottle of wine as a regular occurrence, though that wine was far cheaper.

Newt walks him back to the very nice town car at the end of the evening and for a few moments, Hermann is worried that he’s going to ask to go home with him, or outright climb in anyway. Instead, once Hermann’s safely deposited in the car, Newt leans down and takes him by the chin before pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You’re going to consider my proposition, right?” Newt asks, hovering close. “Can I have an answer by next weekend?”

“I will do my best to have an answer to you by then.” Hermann’s tone is steely, despite the fluttering in his chest at the not-quite kiss. If Newt had actually kissed him then, judging by his reaction to this small action, he’d have been done for.

“Good night, Hermann,” Newt says, and then closes the door. Hermann may just imagine the softness in Newt’s expression, or the way he touches his mouth like he’s holding a treasure as the car drives away. Wishful thinking has no place in his life at the moment.

 

Before he returns home, Hermann manages to have several more drinks from the mini bar. It’s not like him to drink to excess, let alone in private, but he feels the urge for something stronger than champagne. He also feels the urge to add a few more purchases to Newt’s credit card. He manages well enough to slip into the front door without making a noise, but then the light switches on from the other side of the living room, revealing Tendo standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Apologies for waking you.” Hermann carefully toes off his shoes.

“Nah, I was sorta waiting up to see how the date went.” Tendo’s holding a mug and Hermann’s not sure it’s not coffee at this late hour.

He’s generally grateful that Tendo and Alison are allowing him to stay in their guest room until he finds a place of his own or decides to leave the city, but it also means he has to have polite conversation far more than he’d like to at odd hours. Still, it’s been a reminder of how different people are outside of the war and the lives they’ve shared. He sees Tendo as a man in a sloppy tshirt and sweatpants, sometimes with spit-up stains for good measure, not impeccably dressed and slicked back. Maybe this is the case with Newt, but in reverse.

“It wasn’t a complete disaster,” Hermann answers, moving to sit on the couch. Part of him will always see the merit in any chance to be around Newt.

Tendo settles on the couch beside him and he’s relieved to see the tea bag in his mug. 

“I assumed by the fact that you’re home tonight at all it didn’t go particularly well.”

Hermann swallows hard. “Well, that wasn’t going to occur tonight, but not for lack of trying on his part.”

The chuckle that escapes Tendo is warm and fond, almost conspiratorial. Tendo was witness to far too much of Hermann and Newt’s relationship in the Shatterdome days. Hermann implicitly trusts him with details about his romantic history he would rarely feel comfortable sharing with anyone.

“Newt was always…” Hermann continues searching for the words. “Sexually motivated. In our relationship. But this felt forced, not that I doubted the desire. But he’s a very earnest man, and often awkward in his actions, so I was surprised by how smoothly he handled everything.”

“Maybe that big pay raise really made him into a new man. He’s been hanging around with very wealthy people. I think he posted a picture of himself with Elon Musk a few weeks ago, right?”

The eyeroll comes unbidden and Hermann buries his face in his hands then. “I think there’s something wrong with him,” he says into his hands, wanting to avoid the topic, but knowing he needs to let the idea into the world.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, brother.” Tendo rubs his back for a few moments, waiting for him to sit back up properly.

“He’s not himself. I know people change but I’ve- I first communicated with him over a decade ago, I’ve known him for a very long while. And this was not him.”

“Maybe he was nervous?” Tendo suggests. “Your relationship with him was really intense, and I think you both left a lot of unfinished business between the two of you.”

“No, it’s not that. I tried to reach into the drift with him and the only thing that came back was static. It was a jumbled message. Something doesn’t want me in his head, and I find it very hard to believe it would be Newt himself, unless he’s under duress.”

“But who would benefit or care about Newt being connected to you in-”

“Something else with a connection to him,” Hermann states, his eyes going wide with something akin to fear. God, he hopes this is just something he thinks because he’s drunk, because there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that screams that he just might be right.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m not the only thing that’s been in his head. So if it’s reasonable that I could attempt to ghost drift with him…”

“Hermann, are you trying to imply that your ex boyfriend is treating you strangely because he’s communicating with evil aliens?”

Hermann shoots Tendo a look that this should be obvious. That for anyone else this would seem unlikely, but this is Newt Geiszler they’re talking about. If anyone was idiotic enough to listen to the siren call of an alien species and actually follow through, it would be him.

Oh God, if this is true, Hermann has to save him.

 

Newt knows, objectively, that he’s acted like a fool at dinner. He spent half of it wanting so badly to say the things he really felt, but everything came out wrong. Sure, he wants Hermann back, has wanted Hermann back since the moment he didn’t have Hermann, but that’s not the way he’d hoped to regain his affection. While Hermann always liked nicer things, it wasn’t about flash or price tag, but quality.

Back in his apartment, he sheds off his jacket, tossing it aside. The cleaning people will be in tomorrow and they can handle this. Newt’s too preoccupied, despite feeling foolish, reliving the memory of what it’s like to be around Hermann again. It feels good, it’s the most like himself he’s felt in a very long while, and he didn’t realize how odd he’d been feeling until he saw Hermann across the room. 

The thought of Hermann, confused and beautiful, across the table from him makes his chest ache. He wishes he had been bold enough to say the things he wanted to say in the way he wanted to, maybe then the evening would have gone differently. Once he’s slipped out of his shoes, he climbs his way into the bedroom. He’ll have to indulge in these feelings of love for Hermann just a bit longer, maybe take them to bed with him if he can’t have the real thing. Yet. Or at all. He’s really not certain, but he knows it won’t be for lack of trying if he doesn’t succeed.

He unbuttons his shirt before casting a glance to the tank in the corner of his room. He smiles at it bashfully, like a new lover, before walking over to it, tapping gently on the glass. The soft green glow on his face feels like a homecoming he never expected to find in this complicated, strange world. Maybe he’ll have a pick-me-up before following his Hermann-induced fantasies to bed. There’s no reason he can’t have both.


	2. Chapter 2

By their third date, Hermann is becoming an expert on parsing out moments that are Newt and those that are distinctively not really Newt. He’s also becoming an expert on not openly acknowledging these to raise suspicion, though he can never be sure if he’s successful. At the moment, he’s seated at a private booth of a very loud club while Newt talks to the waitress about his work. Before leaving for the evening, Hermann had ventured a glance at the website on the cost of bottle service and nearly spit his tea out. Honestly, if he does think Newt is possessed, he’ll have to work harder on saving not just him but his bank account.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Newt says, sliding back into the booth. It’s a large booth, likely made for a small party of people and not just two men. Looking around the room, this seems to be the norm, booths with only a few bored looking patrons inside. The whole club, despite the price tag seems to Hermann to be a glorified grease stain. 

“It’s not a problem.” Hermann even ventures a smile. It’s good to have moments to collect his thoughts. For their last date, they’d gone for another dinner and were forced to talk the whole while. At least a club with its patrons and noise offers some level of distraction.

Newt’s been offering to play bartender for the evening, mixing Hermann rather strong drinks. He’s only on his second, though. Despite the strength of the drinks, Newt doesn’t push it.

“Can I ask you a question, Hermann?” Newt asks brushing at some lint on his suit. He’s always so meticulously dressed these days.

“Of course you may.” Hermann takes a large gulp of his gin and tonic. He’s going to need this fortification if Newt’s going to end up playing 20 questions about his life.

“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks abruptly.

Hermann pauses, blinks a few times, and then downs the rest of his drink. “No. I am not seeing anyone else. I’ve been trying to find a permanent place to live and figure out what my future holds while I’m on leave- as well as having to contend with where the PPDC may send me should I choose to continue with them in the future.”

“Well, why would you want to do that?” Newt furrows his brow, he looks genuinely confused.

“Because I did good work with them, because I worked hard on helping them succeed.”

“But there’s no more threat.”

He’s not sure if he’s staring at Newt or some dark, terrifying emissary in that moment. Those innocent words send a chill down his spine, because the enemy is trying to convince him they’re his friend and it’s using the face of the thing he loves most in this world.

“We cannot guarantee that, Newton.” Hermann watches as Newt starts to mix him another drink, another gin and tonic that’s startlingly light on the tonic water. “What about you, are you seeing anyone else?”

“No,” Newt answers plainly as he slides the drink to Hermann. “You know, if you want a place to stay for a few nights where you aren’t exposed to domestic bliss or screaming babies, I’d be happy to have you over.”

“I’m sure you would, darling.” Hermann grins as he takes a sip of his drink. “But I also know your intentions for that invitation.”

“And?”

“I’m not going to trust someone who broke my heart with my body so easily.”

It’s the prepared answer he gives. He’s been practicing it like a speech in his head, so he doesn’t start blubbering and say what he really feels. That he’s not sure how much Newt is in charge of what he’s doing and he doesn’t want to do anything Newt can’t consent to. Everything else already toes a dangerous line, but everything else is initiated by Newt, or something he can pull back from easily without ruining their relationship. And ruining their relationship would mean he cannot find a way to save Newt.

Newt makes a face like he’s deliberating, then raises his own glass in acknowledgment. (How many drinks is this? Hermann’s counted five so far, and he’s worried by how well Newt is handling his alcohol.) 

“Fair enough, babe. I was a bastard for leaving you.”

“I suppose you had your own motivations and I do respect that but-”

He’s cut off by the feeling of Newt taking his hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing the tip of each elegant finger before relinquishing it.

“I was a fucking idiot,” Newt answers, decisively.

Hermann flushes to his ears and for a moment the static ceases and there’s peace. When Newt takes his chance, leans forward to press his mouth against Hermann’s, he lets him. His hand settles on Newt’s hip, giving it a squeeze. This won’t last, he reminds himself, this won’t be the answer, but God does he want this. Newt’s warm and eager and tastes like the whiskey sours he’s been drinking and for a moment Hermann can imagine they’re in a dive bar in some hidden corner and the world hasn’t been saved yet, but they’re happy because they have each other. And then Newt’s too eager fingers start to flick open the buttons of his shirt and he pulls away, but only once they’re half undone.

He locks eyes with Newt for a few moments after, oddly fearful of the unconcealed want in his eyes. Hermann hates that he has to face this and still say no time and time again, but he can’t be certain. The static clicks back into place, almost deafening in some ways. He does up most of the buttons that Newt had just undone and resumes nursing his drink.

“Do you want to dance or anything?” Newt asks.

“I’d rather not,” Hermann says. Dancing would require extra painkillers for his leg and he’d rather not mix that with alcohol. “If you’d like to, I won’t be jealous.”

“What if I sort of want you to be jealous?”

“Newton, go dance with one of the pretty women who have been looking over here because they want your money. I will pretend to be sufficiently jealous when you return.”

Newt presses a lingering kiss to his lips before sliding out of the booth. Hermann used to love dancing with Newt, even if he wasn’t capable of keeping up with him for a night. Newt was not a skilled dancer by any means, but it was an excellent use of his energy. Now, he’s approaching two women and asking them to dance, and he’s probably a bit too forced in his efforts. It’s laughably bad, but Hermann gives a little wave to the trio as they move on the dance floor. 

After a few songs he stops to talk to them and then they follow Newt back to the U shaped booth, one sliding in beside him and the other on Hermann’s other side. Hermann tries very hard not to glare at the woman beside him, who he is certain is very lovely, but definitely not someone he wants on dates with him.

“This is Luna and Camden,” Newt begins. “They’re American graduate students.”

So almost definitely too young for Newt to be dancing with. Typical. 

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

“Isn’t he cute?” Newt asks with a grin.

“I like his accent,” the girl pressed next to Hermann, Camden, answers.

Admittedly, Hermann is used to this response from young Americans. Sometimes, he’ll take the opportunity to affect his native German accent to avoid this reaction, but he’s not nearly sober enough to do so.

Newt leans over, whispering into Hermann’s ear. “I told them they could finish our booze up, if you wanted to get out of here. I know this isn’t really your scene.”

Hermann jolts back. “If I get out of here, I’m going back to Tendo’s.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Herms, relax. There’s just a spot down the street that’s a bit more mellow.”

Hermann eases, not because of what Newt’s saying, but because he sounds so very much like old Newt. Maybe the alcohol makes it easier for him to slip out, to be his authentic self. That doesn’t seem fair, though. Hermann wants to be able to crawl inside that crystal clear, sparklingly sober mind.

“We’re hemmed in, I’m afraid,” Hermann answers.

With a grin, Newt moves away from Hermann enough to whisper in Luna’s ear and she moves out of the booth. Newt slides out, then assists Hermann with moving carefully out of the booth.

“You do realize that showing off how easily you can charm women now doesn’t impress me,” Hermann states, once they’re safely out of earshot of the booth. 

“What does impress you? You’re a very hard man to please.”

“I think you know what it takes to  _ please _ me, Newton.”

“Well, that’s all well and good but I think you’d get mad if I dropped to my knees right here in the club.”

“I’m going to call a cab, and go home,” Hermann states.

Newt reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I thought we were going to the bar down the street?”

“My head hurts,” he lies. The truth is, he’s afraid of seeing Newt for longer than a few moments acting too much like himself. He’s afraid he’ll give in during a moment of weakness, or of how much it’ll hurt to see Newt shift back into this new calculating creature he’s become.

“Alright.” Newt lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Hermann’s hand. The gesture feels achingly intimate and familiar and Hermann feels the pinpricks of tears in his eyes. He can’t let Newt, or whoever is piloting Newt, know that he suspects anything. The consequences are something he can’t bring himself to dwell on.

 

Hermann wakes up late the next morning. Being on leave, which is the dignified way of saying he’s unemployed, has done a lot to change his habits. Sometimes he wonders if there’s not another source for these habits, something he’d taken hold of in the drift. Newt did always appreciate a Sunday morning lie-in. He wonders idly what Newt is doing at that moment, what he’s now like in his unguarded moments. Is he the same? Is he some automaton shut off and tossed carelessly back in a box? Does he have a whole other life Hermann can never be privy to?

There’s no use in dwelling, so he dresses. His clothing choices are more casual than they once have been, trousers made for comfort and a soft and light jumper. If he goes back to work, he’ll certainly resume his more prim wardrobe selections, but for now he enjoys the freedom. When he joins the world for the day, the Chois have already left for work.

On the dining table, there’s a bouquet of red roses, probably about three dozen. It seems excessive, Hermann thinks at first, but he smiles at the token of love for a moment thinking this is a gift of wedded bliss between his hosts. Then he sees the note sticking in the flowers with his own name written in looping letters. It’s clearly a scan from an online message, but something about the personal touch makes him blush anyway.

He carefully extracts the note from the flowers, reading through it quickly. It’s, thankfully, nothing lewd or overly romantic. It expresses gratitude and an apology that Newt will be out of the country for two weeks. Hermann’s relieved to see this, to give him time to steel himself for future interactions, but he also worries about going so long without seeing him. So much can change in that amount of time.

He snaps a photo of the roses and sends them off along with a text message denoting thanks. It’s nothing too profuse or flowery, hopefully to keep Newt from sending any more gifts like this. Hermann already knows that he’ll have a lot of teasing to deal with over the dinner table tonight. This doesn’t stop him from burying his face in the roses, taking in the fragrant smell of them. He’s only been given flowers once before, a pitiful looking bouquet that Newt had bought on some street corner as an apology for ruining a favorite shirt. Those flowers had been wilted and arranged awkwardly, but he still keeps them pressed between the pages of some of his favorite books. He plucks one of the roses to add to that collection.

 

Newt hates being away from home. He’s not sure where this has come from, this urge to tether himself safely to his apartment, to his homebase. Dimly he registers that he needs to register this, especially his attachment to his friend in the tank. (Alice, he’s started to call her, like the girl in Wonderland, chasing the white rabbit of the drift. It’s not subtle in the least.) Whenever he thinks about reaching out to someone about this, something in him squashes the thought immediately. He can stop any time.

Recently, he’s been thinking of the consequences of telling Hermann about this. Maybe Hermann would understand, maybe Hermann would know if he wanted help. But the voices singing in the back of his brain always insist this will end poorly. If he tells Hermann this now, Hermann will leave, or something bad will happen to him. He can’t fathom the possibility of losing Hermann again, even if he’s consistently kept at an arm’s length. It’s what he deserves and he’s accepted this.

Tonight he’s in bed, warm and comfortable and about to sleep, when he’s met with a sudden urge to talk to Hermann. They’ve texted irregularly during his business trip, which he’s been on for about a week now, and Newt’s been sending him gifts every other day, just as a token of appreciation for being around him. This morning it was a box of very nice tea, which he was very proud of. Hermann had sent a photo of himself drinking a cup and while the angle was very bad, he appreciated it nonetheless. It was the first photo he’d sent with his face in it.

Newt fumbles on the light, and reaches for his glasses (inconvenient things, he does need to remember to schedule that surgery). He purposely pulls his blanket down further, revealing more of his bare chest, before he pulls his tablet off of the nightstand and calls Hermann. He rings through three times until he’s greeted by the sight of Hermann leaning against his hand, seated at a desk.

“Hey handsome,” Newt greets, and his voice is oddly husky, like there’s something caught in his throat.

“It’s very late where you are, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Hermann murmurs this answer against his hand. He looks adorable when he’s like this.

“I just wanted to say hello. Do you want to get dinner when I’m back?” he asks.

“You wanted to say hello with your shirt completely off. In bed. You’re the most subtle man alive.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I’ll get dinner with you,” Hermann answers, sounding perturbed but still fond.

“Great. I’ll make a reservation tomorrow.” Newt licks his lips, pausing for a moment with just the tip of tongue sticking out before he retracts it.

“Don’t be cute like that, Newton.”

“I can’t help being cute, babe.”

“I don’t need to go to a restaurant where you require a reservation. I already can’t possibly pay you back for the tea, or the designer shirt, or the flowers.”

Newt shakes his head. “Gifts do not need to be paid back, Hermann. I have the money, so I’m going to use it to treat you good.”

“That’s not proper English.” Hermann rolls his eyes and Newt can’t help but grin. “You’re trying to make me your kept man, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Newt hasn’t actually thought about why he’s doing what he’s doing, he just feels the impulse to do what he can for Hermann, to make him love him again. Or, more short term, to sleep with him again. He’s sure once they get to that point in their relationship, everything will be right again. His life will be perfect. That’s what the voices have been saying, anyway, that Hermann would be with him/them truly and forever after that point. But Newt is patient in this and this alone, he’d wait a lifetime for Hermann.

“If you were my kept man, I’d set you up in an apartment. Which is something I’m willing to do, by the way.”

“You’re doing an awful job of proving me wrong. Which is pretty typical for you, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“So…” Newt begins. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to take your shirt off?”

“I’m supervising the Choi child at the moment.” Hermann glances up over the camera, clearly making sure to check in on the child in question.

“That’s not a solid no, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hermann shakes his head. “No. That’s definitely a no.” He squints at the computer and Newt’s not sure if his attention is focused on him or something else entirely.

“Babe, I put up with a lot but I do expect full attention when someone’s talking to me,” Newt states, and he’s surprised by the cruel edge to his own statement.

Thankfully, Hermann seems nonplussed, or at least he hides his offense well. “I was ascertaining if you still had the nipple piercing.”

“Just think if you’d slept with me already you’d-”

“Goodbye, Newton. I have to go.”

Without another word, Hermann switches off the call. Newt’s left staring at the blank screen in the dark of his hotel room. He wishes he understood why he keeps saying the things he says.


	3. Chapter 3

The gifts keep coming even after Newt’s returned. This feels like it’s some very inhuman understanding of human courtship rituals or just plain desperation. No matter how many times Hermann clarifies that he does not need any of these things, they keep coming. Some things are romantic cliches- more flowers, watches, chocolates, and others at least seem personalized to his interests- the tea, a soft sweater, some very lovely old books. It feels like he’s being courted by two separate entities, which seems accurate given his current theory.

They’ve been dating for about a month now. Two of those weeks were spent with Newt out of the country, but he invites Hermann to dinner or for drinks rather frequently. To celebrate their month anniversary, he takes Hermann to the opera, which is something Hermann has always dreamed about doing on a date. He even envisioned taking Newt to the opera, but it seems hollow in a strange way, because Newt watches along with him without commentary. Hermann craves the comments, the little moments of criticism and juvenile analysis. Instead, Newt sits next to him, not fully engaged but quiet, resting a hand on Hermann’s thigh. Sometimes he feels Newt glance his way and linger too long, but he doesn’t turn to face him. He’s not going to let him ruin the opera with a crude proposition that he knows is inevitably coming.

Newt never oversteps his boundaries, but he does take every chance he can to turn an innocent moment into an innuendo. For whatever reason, the Precursors (Hermann is increasingly confident in this theory) find it pivotal that Newt sleeps with him. Hermann suspects this comes down to a fundamental misunderstanding of human relationships and the end goal. He doesn’t fear for his life in the immediate future, Newt has had the opportunity to dispose of him or drug him or harm him in some way. Instead, he’s consistently treated with kid gloves, like some delicate and treasured things. Honestly, it leaves Hermann craving rough handling.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?” Newt asks, once the applause has died down at the end of the show.

“Just a drink,” Hermann answers pointedly.

“Maybe two drinks. I make very good drinks, you know.” Newt leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. The kissing has become a normal part of their interactions, and Hermann gives these freely. If he wasn’t giving any affection, it would arouse suspicion. 

“You make strong drinks, there’s a big difference there.”

“There’s not.”

Hermann has to conceal his nerves the whole way to Newt’s apartment. He’s not really sure what will greet him there, and he’s only going on good faith that this will not end poorly. He manages to send off a text to Tendo, just in case he doesn’t come home, or he needs an emergency out. Tendo sends him a reply of crude emojis, which they’d agreed upon as a signal in advance. In case Newt looks at his phone, or there’s something even more nefarious afoot.

What he finds is a sleek and oddly refined apartment. It looks modern and oddly impersonal. It’s clear that Newt has taken very few of his comfort items with him to his new life. He has just enough knick knacks for it to look like he has a real and fulfilling life and, were he anyone else but who he is, Hermann would be convinced this was the apartment of just about any wealthy man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Newt says, stepping into the kitchen space. Hermann shows himself to the living room, settling on the couch with his cane resting beside him. The apartment has impressive views of the city, the blinking lights and lives of millions of people in front of him. It feels lonely, being so isolated from the rest of the world like this. There’s no warmth to the apartment and it hardly feels lived in.

Newt emerges by the couch in a few moments. He’s taken off his suit jacket and waistcoat and his tie is undone. This is an artful arranging, Hermann knows, but he still finds it uncommonly attractive. He hands over a glass of of amber liquid to Hermann, already sipping from the identical glass in his own hand when he settles down beside him.

“Thank you, Newton.” He sets the glass aside so he can slip out of his own jacket. The shirt he’s wearing underneath is dark blue and tighter than he’d like it to fit. It’s a gift from Newt, of course and despite his often conflicting experience, he still finds Newt’s attraction to him gratifying.

“You look so good in that shirt,” Newt says, resting a hand on his knee and shifting closer. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you tonight.”

“I noticed.” Hermann turns to him. “You’ve never been subtle.”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Newt’s hand moves further up his leg and he allows it. He also allows Newt to kiss him, soft and tender and oddly sweetly for the occasion. The static is broken, Hermann thinks, reassuring himself, he can almost hear Newt at his truest, if he tunes in closely, if he gives into the sensation. It’s Hermann who deepens the kiss, seeking something further, a desperate answer to a desperate question.  _ Are you still here?  _ He’s asking and he wants Newt to know how often he’s found himself asking that question in the past two years.

There’s no answer but the sensation of Newt all but climbing into his lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as they kiss. He feels the line of Newt’s body pressed against his own, suddenly more eager and more desperate. Newt rocks his hips and Hermann gasps into his mouth and he wants so badly to keep going to continue this but then he remembers and he pulls away from the kiss, placing a hand firmly on Newt’s chest. The sound of his heart beating in his chest rings through Hermann’s mind, and then it’s drowned out by the static.

“I said just drinks, Newton, and I meant it.” He feels cruel for saying this, but he must.

Newt climbs off his lap, noticeably scowling, but he doesn’t argue. “People change their minds all the time, baby, can’t blame a man for trying.”

Hermann grimaces at his least favorite term of endearment. He screws his eyes shut, willing away any symptom of arousal. Thankfully, Newt’s attitude has done half of the work of that.

“When you talk to me like that, it makes me doubt that you even like me.”

“Of course I like you, what’s not to like?” Newt asks, but that doesn’t seem like a very concrete answer. This is not Newt at all sitting beside him, or the least amount of Newt there can be, and he’s oddly flattered that he’s offended the Precursors badly enough that they’re this defensive. He also hates himself that he’s offended them so badly they’ve taken Newt away for the moment, or possibly for longer.

Hermann lifts his glass from the coffee table and downs the drink. It’s whiskey and he coughs awkwardly, hating the burning sensation. He sees Newt out of the corner of his eye grinning wickedly and for a moment he fears he’s been poisoned, but it’s just the same cruel creature he fears and loves.

“I understand your hesitation, Hermann,” Newt says at length. His tone has softened, but it’s become a facsimile of Newt, “but it’s the next natural progression of our relationship, isn’t it? You didn’t have a problem climbing into bed with me before.”

“I already told you, several times and I’m not explaining again.”

“I’ve apologized for that, haven’t I? Breaking your heart?”

He rises to his feet in that moment. He’ll not have any of this treatment anymore, not for the night. “I’m not dealing with this. I came here to- I expect to be respected if nothing else, and you cannot manage that.”

Before he can step forward, there’s a hand on his, not holding him back, just reaching out in hope. God, this is something he’s going to have to speak to his therapist about after he’s saved Newt.

“I’m sorry. That was...that was dickish of me,” Newt says, and his eyes are clear and shining and for the first time Hermann sees fear in them. “You know me, always looking for a solution rather than working something out.”

Hermann sinks back down onto the couch, holding onto Newt’s hand tightly. He takes this for what it is, the Precursors dangling Newt in front of him like a plaything, like he’s their plaything that they’re willing to share if he plays their game. He’s not going to play their game, but he’ll pretend if it gives Newt a few moments or a night of comfort.

“You can’t keep saying awful things and then apologizing for them, you know,” Hermann chides softly.

“I’m aware.” Newt withdraws his hand and grabs his glass, taking a gulp of the whiskey. Hermann is alarmed by how easily he drinks. Newt had always enjoyed a glass or two of something hard after a long day, but truly never like this. He wants to ask about it, but he’s afraid what will happen if Newt gets defensive. “I’m terrified of losing you again,” Newt continues. “But I keep saying these awful things.”

“It would take a lot to lose me, Newton.” Hermann leans in, pressing a kiss to Newt’s forehead. He has so much he wants to tell Newt at any moment, but he doesn’t risk a single word, because Newt having these free moments seems more important now. 

“If I promise not to do anything inappropriate, will you spend the night?”

“I’ll need to let Tendo know I’m not coming home.”

“Is he like your dad now or something?” Newt jokes.

Hermann rolls his eyes as he taps away at his phone. “I’m staying in his home, it’s a courtesy.”

“You really can stay here, you know.” Newt pauses when Hermann gives him a skeptical look, and holds up his hands. “No funny business, I promise. Not until you’re ready.”

Hermann blinks slowly a few times, then rises to his feet. “Let’s sleep, then.”

Newt is eager and on his feet in a matter of seconds, rushing into what he presumes is the bedroom. If there’s any real Newt left in his body, there’s undoubtedly dirty laundry in the bedroom he’s trying to conceal. Hermann frowns when he arrives at the steps to the bedroom, this design will not do long-term for him, and he can tell by the sheepish look that Newt gives when he pops into the doorway, that he’s thinking the same thing. Newt doesn’t ask if Hermann needs help, but does hold out a hand to assure that he reaches the top step without issue.

“I’ve set out some clothes you can borrow, they might be uh-”

“Short?” Hermann supplies, standing by the bed. There’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt folded neatly and he takes them. “Bathroom?”

Newt gestures to the bathroom. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. It’s the red one.”

The t-shirt fits without issue, but the sweatpants are comically short and slightly large in the waistband. Hermann likes the way they smell, nonetheless, so he’s fully content when he slips back into Newt’s room. Newt’s pulled back the blankets on Hermann’s side of the bed as a courtesy. Hermann stops to press a kiss to his lips before he slips out of the room for his own nighttime routine. It’s when Newt moves past him that it catches his eye.

There’s a screen blocking out part of Newt’s room completely, almost floor to ceiling. Something about it fills Hermann with a familiar and terrifying dread and he’s certain he’s not imagining a faint green glow on the other side. Even if he can’t see it, he knows the brain is there. It’s suddenly the most obvious thing in the world, in fact. If his own ghost drift with Newt has started to fade with time, it only makes sense that the Precursors could take hold with routine drifting.

It’s a miracle that Newt is still alive. If Hermann doesn’t climb into bed and pretend he doesn’t know anything, it may be a miracle that he’s alive come morning as well. He does just that, stamping down the sudden all encompassing fear. This is for Newt, to save him from himself. If he plays along, he’ll do just fine.

But what if- his mind supplies, what if Newt wants him to drift with that thing? Can Hermann possibly fend him off? He’s got him in his room, up a small flight of stairs, vulnerable. No, he’s realized. Hermann’s spent the past month accepting drinks from Newt, or riding in cars with him. Newt’s had the opportunity to force a drift upon him. For whatever reason, no matter how nefarious the plot, everything they/he want from Hermann they want to be given freely.

This brings a new thought, something that fills Hermann with a new, more tragic emotion. Does this mean that Newt gave himself to the Precursors freely? He supposes freely is not the correct word, they may have tricked him or manipulated him, the way they’re trying to with Hermann. Still, he has to wonder, what did Newt want more than a life with Hermann that was enough to tempt him away?

When Newt stands in the doorway, he forgets to feel sorry for himself. Newt looks like himself to Hermann, truly, for the first time in a long time. He’s wearing a faded band t-shirt and boxer shorts, nothing spectacularly sexy or appealing, but Hermann wants him in that moment. He wants to take back everything he’s said about just drinks. He wants to risk being forced to take part of some evil plot. He wants to take Newt in his arms and promise him that things will be alright, even if he’s not sure if Newt knows that anything’s wrong.

“Nice to have a bed that’s big enough for two,” Newt says, stifling a yawn. He switches out the light and carefully pads his way to his side of the bed, sliding in alongside Hermann. Unguarded, Newt throws an arm around Hermann’s middle. He shouldn’t encourage this, but he feels confident that Newt is doing this without any further agenda than to be close. For now.

 

Sleep doesn’t come easy to Newt with this new fear rolling in his stomach and in the back of his mind. Hermann lays too still beside him to be sleeping easily, but Newt can’t tell if he’s also awake and faking it. Eventually, Hermann shifts to his side and Newt feels an odd sense of relief. Hopefully he will sleep well through the night.

The truth is, Newt’s grown comfortable with the voices in his head, he’s even certain he’s aware of what those voices are. Like a calming drug, he allows himself to make peace with their presence. For the first time, after he’s nearly offended Hermann so badly he left, Newt wonders if maybe he’s not in control at all. Maybe he hasn’t been in control in a long while.

At first, he’s afraid to think these thoughts, afraid he’ll lose the control he does have for the time being if he thinks about it. Then the greater fear sinks in, they don’t care if he knows, because he’s a puppet to them. He opens his mouth in the darkness of his bedroom a few times, hoping to speak and tell someone the truth. Hermann will understand, Hermann will surely help him with this. His voice doesn’t come, though, and he feebly breathes in hopes of help.

Newt sits up in bed, starts to catalogue the things that are off in his life. It’s a bit like counting sheep, he thinks- his clothes, his job, his hobbies, his hair, his jewelry, his shoes- and then he remembers the one thing that’s right and he lays down again, settling an arm over Hermann’s waist. The thoughts creep into the back of his mind like a sedative, the feeling of belonging to something greater and he might forget that he’s had these fearful thoughts by the time he wakes, but he clings to Hermann like a drowning man clings to a life raft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a 9 chapter fic so I hope to post 2-3 chapters daily!


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a warm body pressed against Hermann’s back when he wakes up.  In the dim, still bleary hours of morning, it takes him a few moments to register who this body belongs to, and then he smiles to himself. It’s so easy to forget, when neither of them is really awake, that Newt is not really Newt at all. Or not always Newt. After the previous night, Hermann is more confident that he can save him, he can have him back. There’s still someone to save after all.

_ I’m going to help you.  _ He tries to send out the message, hoping that it’ll go through, that it’ll pass undetected through the static.  _ I love you and I don’t care if you hate me forever after this.  _ Hermann does care, but it’s a price he’s more than willing to pay. Newt stirs awake and places a kiss to the nape of his neck and presses just a bit closer to his body. A blush creeps across Hermann’s face when he realizes what’s prompted this motion.

He wonders if they’re still half asleep, are they both truly themselves? Could he allow himself to indulge just this once? Chalk it up to a half asleep accident, and something he doesn’t want to repeat yet? It would be so easy to slip into that and for a moment, his body betrays him and he moves his hips backward. When Newt moves against him again, he stills. Hermann hears something that he’s certain is a growl behind him as Newt rolls away onto his back on the bed beside him.

“I need to go home,” Hermann states, carefully sitting up in the bed. “I promised I’d watch the child today.”

“That’s a kinda sad life you’re living there, Herms,” Newt remarks. He looks like his old self with his bedhead and the lines from his pillow etched on his face, but he’s most certainly not his old self this morning.

“Yes, yes. And you want to save me from it by putting me up in a very nice apartment, where you’ll come visit me and sexually satisfy me on a regular basis.” Hermann stretches out his bad leg, kneading gently at the thigh where it aches. In the past he’s appreciated Newt’s help with this, but he doesn’t trust Newt in this mood.

“I’d even let you live with me if you were a good boy.” Newt grins and waggles his brow a bit too suggestively to be anything resembling sexy.

“I fully intend to find my own flat once I have a solid plan for my future, thank you.”

“You’re making things so hard for me, babe.” Newt casts a sideways glance at him and bites his lip. Under ordinary circumstances, Hermann would find this endearing, but there’s something about the way Newt does it that makes his skin crawl. “So very, very hard.”

“I think you can make things easier just fine on your own,” he answers drily.

“Do you wanna come on a yacht with me this weekend?” 

 

It’s a God awful walk of shame, taking the cab back to Tendo’s place at nearly noon in a partially wrinkled suit from the night before. Hermann attempts to slip in unnoticed, but Tendo is more or less waiting, seated at the small dining room table with his ever present mug. This time Hermann’s certain it must be coffee.

“You did  _ not  _ sleep with him, brother,” Tendo says, his tone concerned, but his smile a bit too wry.

“I did not sleep with Newt. As per usual, not for lack of him trying. His enthusiasm would be appreciated under any other circumstances.”

“Still don’t need to know about your sex life, even if it’s full past tense.” Tendo takes a big sip out of his mug. Both of them know Tendo’s seen things he’d rather he didn’t.

“I think he has a kaiju brain in his bedroom.” Hermann places his jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and slides into the seat across from Tendo. “If anyone was capable of cloning a kaiju brain after all…”

“It would be him.”

“It most certainly would.”

“So…” Tendo says, clearly choosing his next words carefully. “Were you in his bedroom?”

“He only has the one and I had to sleep somewhere,” Hermann defends. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re sending mixed signals-”

“Don’t! Don’t make this into a joke,” Hermann snaps at him and then takes a few deep, ragged breaths. Just a few moments to collect himself. “I woke up this morning in the arms of the person I loved and I couldn’t- I couldn’t- I can’t save him just by loving him, and he’s got a damn brain in his bedroom and I’m out of my depth.”

“Brother,” Tendo reaches out a supportive hand, taking Hermann’s hand in his own. “Maybe it’s time you actually told the Pan Pacific Defense Corps about this?”

Hermann sets his jaw, determined. “I can’t trust them to not hurt him. Or worse.”

“He helped save the world! That’s got to count for something.”

“Until he seems to be a threat to the world, I am handling this the way I see fit.”

“And what if he hurts you? When he realizes you’re playing him?”

“It’s my decision to make. I went into that drift with him, and part of him never really came out, so it’s my job to save him.”

Tendo sighs and pulls his hand away. This is not the first time they’ve had this argument, and Hermann hopes Tendo knows that he’d do nothing to endanger his family. He’s truly grateful for this friendship in this difficult time, but he doesn’t want to lose sight of his mission. Then, with any luck, he can pursue some level of domestic bliss of his own. He can’t articulate this, though, because he can’t allow himself to be vulnerable, even with those he trusts. Instead, he does what he’s always been taught in emotional situations and changes the subject.

“What precisely does one wear to go on a yacht?” Hermann asks.

“He’s taking you on a yacht.” Tendo sighs and shakes his head. 

Hermann spends the afternoon watching the Choi child and trying on some clothes in the back of Tendo’s wardrobe. Of course, if anyone would have the perfect outfit for a yacht outing, it would be his friend.

 

The clothes make him feel foolish. Hermann’s chosen a linen shirt with short sleeves, and he’s left a few buttons undone and his trousers are rather tight given that he’s supposed to be relaxing. He realizes, once they’re out on the water and he’s quelled his nausea, that it’s only him and Newt and whoever is steering the boat so he could have worn most anything. Instead, he has to deal with the conflicting feelings he feels every time Newt shifts his gaze to the exposed bit of his chest.

Thankfully, he’s saved from feeling like a complete fool by Newt’s wardrobe choice of an outlandishly green polo shirt with the collar popped up. It’s not a flattering look for anyone, but it’s also the first time he’s seen Newt with his arms exposed in public since they started dating again. Hermann’s leaning against the railing of the yacht, enjoying the air and the novelty of the venture for a few moments. Newt, meanwhile, sits in a lounge chair, tapping away at a tablet. Apparently he’s working overtime this weekend.

Hermann settles down onto the chair to the right of Newt, lifting the very fruity frozen drink Newt insisted on making for him to his lips. LIke most every drink Newt makes, it’s too strong for his liking. He drinks it anyway.

“You’re still so pale, Herms,” Newt says, not looking up from the tablet.

“I don’t have the opportunity very often to enjoy the sun.” He lifts his glasses from around his neck, fixing them on his face as he reaches for the book he thankfully brought to read. “I don’t think you see the sun very often either, so much as the tanning bed.”

Newt does put his tablet down at then, his mouth quirking into a grin. “Very astute observation. I’m a busy man, and I’ve been trying to use my free time to its fullest.”

“Yet you still have time to make it to the tanning bed on a regular basis…” Now Hermann’s the one who does not look up, focusing his attention on his book. He hears a huff from the chair beside him and it takes much of his self-control to refrain from smirking.

“Hermann,” Newt says, his tone oddly commanding. For once, Hermann gives him what he wants and glances over at him. “Come over here.”

Hermann laughs outright at that. “Why? So you can put your hands all over me and then say something to offend me?”

“Approximately that, yes. Honestly it won’t be that different from old times, will it?”

He pointedly lifts his book back up, resuming his reading. The more it’s like “old times” the more of an issue anything they do will be for Hermann, so it’s best to avoid that. After about ten minutes of peace, though, he feels the seat shift as Newt sits on the edge.

“Can I help you?” Hermann asks, looking up at him.

“I didn’t ask you out here today for you to ignore me,” Newt says, and it sounds laughably juvenile.

“You were working not even fifteen minutes ago, I wanted to give you peace.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to have any peace right now?” Newt answers and Hermann’s blood runs cold for a moment. He doesn’t mean it in the way that’s true, but there’s such a haunting truth to it.

As a courtesy, Hermann casts his book aside, looking expectantly over at Newt. Newt rests a hand on Hermann’s chest, sliding his first three fingers between two buttons of his shirt.

“Do you remember the time,” Newt begins again, “we tried to take a weekend away, but the hotel was an utter disaster, so we spent all day on the beach.”

“Which wasn’t even really a beach at all, yes.” Hermann smiles warmly at him.

Newt flicks open a button on Hermann’s shirt, pressing his hand forward to rub his chest.

“You got burned so badly and you wouldn’t admit it to me, until you had to ask me to rub the aloe all over.”

“That was an excessively thorough application of aloe vera gel.” Hermann’s breath hitches as Newt grazes a finger against his nipple.

“I just wanted to take care of you.” Newt leans down, pressing a kiss to Hermann’s lips. He wastes no time, though, in licking at his lower lip, licking his way into Hermann’s mouth. Hermann reaches for him, placing a hand on the back of his neck, kissing him hard and for a moment he doesn’t care if the air between them is clear or if there’s static, but thank God it’s all so alarmingly clear. Surely loving Newt is enough, surely letting him in like this will save their world. 

“Let me take care of you again,” Newt says softly when he pulls away, shifting his position so that he’s straddling Hermann on the chair. “Please.”

Hermann nods feebly and pulls him back in for another kiss, holding Newt’s precious face in his hands as he does. It’s so easy, he thinks, fading back into this. He could give in, deal with the consequences later, because he’s certain this is his Newt in his arms, and he’s not afraid of Newt turning him away or hating him.

The hand that had been on his chest slides down between them, rubbing against Hermann’s cock, feeling his hardening length. He pants, giving into the pleasure for a few moments until reality seeps in. He shouldn’t do this.

“Newton,” he exhales. “Please, stop.”

Immediately, Newt stops, withdrawing his hand and then quickly climbing off of Hermann. He’s hard in his trousers and his eyes are wide, confused and aroused and more than a little bit hurt.

“I don’t understand, Hermann.”

Hermann shifts to sit up properly in the chair. He imagines he doesn’t look much better than Newt in that moment. “I’m not ready for that, and I ask that you continue to respect that boundary I’ve set.”

“This was never a problem bef-”

“Newton.” Hermann holds up a hand. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine,” Newt snaps, running a hand through his hair anxiously. Hermann notices that he tugs it as well but doesn’t say anything on it. “I just need to cool down. I’ll go below deck for a moment.”

Newt hurries off below deck and Hermann watches him go. He wonders, perhaps for the first time, if he’s just being cruel. If this is a game the Precursors are setting up to torment Newt, that they know what Hermann is doing, but he has to hope this isn’t true. Otherwise, he has no purpose and even less of a hope of saving him. Hermann buttons up the button that Newt had undone and debates following him below deck, but it won’t accomplish anything.

He wants nothing more than for this ordeal to be over. Maybe if he gives in, he can find a way to trick them, to play the role of the perfect boyfriend and then slip his way back to Newt’s mind. Because that is what he needs to do, he realizes. He needs to be back in Newt’s mind, the way the Precursors are.

It’s not long until Newt returns, looking calm and relatively collected. His collar has been adjusted and he settles into his seat as if nothing has happened. Hermann narrows his eyes at him, not trying to be rude, but attempting to suss him out.

“You were drinking,” Hermann observes.

“I had a shot or two, yeah. What of it?”

“Nothing.” Hermann picks his book up again and resumes reading. They’ll only be on the water for a few more hours and Newt’s mood will pick up again. He may try to convince him to kiss or sleep with him again, and it’ll be fine. They’ll get through this. He almost believes it for a moment.

 

He’s not sure how he’s convinced Hermann to come home with him, after the spectacular failure of earlier in the day. It’s an old dynamic, Newt thinks, Hermann saying he won’t do something and then he does just that. They both love to say things to be contrary to to other. It’s the things they say they won’t do that they mean that hurt.

Now Hermann’s asleep in his bed, curled on his side, resting on his good leg. Newt perches on the edge near him, not close enough to disturb him, but close enough that he could touch if he wanted to. He does want to, but he also doesn’t dare.

They want Hermann and he wants Hermann and it’s all so very confusing because Hermann wants him too. (Maybe. Perhaps. That was definitely desire on the boat, wasn’t it?) But no one has anybody. Well, they have him, and he technically has them, but he’s not really sure if he can claim any ownership over those thoughts taking root in his skull. They’re far bigger than Newt is.

He thinks of the tank, of Alice knocking around, almost begging him to drift. (He knows, he knows objectively that he’s making this up. But he doesn’t care.) Would he choose Hermann over this? Is that the test? If he chooses Hermann over the brain, over the wonderful drift, he can truly have him again. They’ll live together in his apartment and he’ll buy Hermann anything he could ever need, and he’ll stop working so late and he’ll stop drinking so much. Hermann, he suspects, would really appreciate it if he didn’t drink so much.

Carefully, he rises to his feet. He sheds his layers like they’re offensive, letting them unceremoniously in a pile. This ends with him nearly tripping over the pile, startling Hermann awake. He lifts his body up off the bed, looking over at Newt with bleary eyes. When he’s got the sleep out of his eyes, he seems to process that Newt is standing naked at the foot of the bed.

“Newton,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come to bed when you’ve got clothes on.”

“That is the opposite of what any person wants to hear from their boyfriend.”

Newt doesn't have to look over to see that Hermann rolls his eyes. He knows instinctively and grins to himself as he slips into his pajama bottoms. After he slides his shirt over his head, he climbs into the bed beside Hermann. The only reason he’s not already warm and comfortable in the bed is because of work, some urgent business he had to attend to very late at night, after they had already agreed to go to sleep. Hermann doesn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in bed already, though.

“Boyfriend is a bold claim,” Hermann says at length, his voice husky with sleep.

“Oh, we’re boyfriends.” Newt tugs the blankets towards him, knowing full well he’s leaving Hermann partially bereft. That’s the plan, after all.

Hermann huffs and scoots closer, resting a hand against Newt’s chest. Newt has closed his eyes, trying to enjoy this moment without any of his stupid ideas interfering with the peace, when he feels a finger rubbing at his chest, near his nipple. As soon as he’s started to think something’s happening, though, Hermann’s hand stops. Newt frowns down at it, profoundly disappointed.

“You still have the piercing,” Hermann mumbles, then pulls his hand away completely.

“You can keep touching.”

“I just wanted to know about the piercing.” Hermann rolls back onto his side.

Swallowing hard, Newt reaches over to the other side of the bed, switching off his light. Yet again he finds himself wanting to tell Hermann what he’s feeling, what he’s contending with in his head. The words don’t come. It’s as though his body is not capable of forming the words, like a paralysis has taken over him.

“Can I take you to brunch tomorrow?” he says instead.

“I need to return Tendo’s clothes to him.” Hermann shuffles under the covers, partially glancing over his shoulder, as though he can see Newt in the darkness.

“I don’t think Tendo will miss a linen shirt for a few more hours. Besides, maybe I want to stop by and say hi? I haven’t taken the chance to meet the child yet.”

The lines of Hermann’s body go stiff with hesitance or something else Newt can’t exactly understand. He reaches a hand out, resting it on the small of Hermann’s back, which doesn’t seem to do any help.

“Herms, babe. I’m not asking to meet your parents, this is Tendo. He’s my friend too.”

“It’ll be Sunday morning, Tendo is at church on Sunday mornings.”

Something deep in Newt causes him to snort. He’s never been one to treat religion with extreme reverence, but he’s always held a fascination. This thing, these creatures crawling in him, treat human belief and human optimism with such disdain. He feels sick to his stomach at the prospect of disrespecting someone he cares for, but he speaks anyway. “Not the best way to spend a Sunday morning, is it?”

“I believe he enjoys his Catholicism immensely, the same way you enjoy being an ass.”

“Oh, speaking of that, I have an idea.”

“It’s not too late for me to get a cab and go home.”

After a dramatic huff, he resigns himself, laying awake on his side of the bed until he hears Hermann’s breathing even out, signalling that he’s fallen asleep. He can’t even think of wanting to tell Hermann the truth, he realizes, because he doesn’t have control of what comes out of his mouth. Any relationship Newt has with Hermann is well and truly on neither of their terms and he’s terrified of himself. Never has he wanted to be capable of this level of hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a reminder, precursor Newt=a giant dickbag boyfriend. Do not date him or people like him. Much of the behavior exhibited by him is intended to be shown as unhealthy and Hermann is a. aware it is unhealthy and b. aware it is not Newt


	5. Chapter 5

The two month mark slips by, almost unnoticed. Hermann is honestly surprised he’s managed to make it this far, given that once a week one of them ends up so frustrated or angry they can’t speak for at least the next day. Tendo has asked, or rather warned, that if he doesn’t do something about the situation soon, Tendo will call in someone else. All Hermann can do is assure him that Newt is still respecting his boundaries and he has everything under control. Both of those things are technically true.

At this point in time, his wardrobe is slowly being replaced by expensive gifts and Newt expects to see him almost every night they have free. The second part he wouldn’t mind if...well, it didn’t prove to be such a problem for him. As much as he’s accepted that Newt is not entirely Newt and it’s a very tragic thing, the man who looks at him across the dinner table several times a week with unmasked desire is in a Newt shaped package. 

Tonight, he’s got them reservations at a very expensive restaurant, which is typical. What’s less typical is that the reservations are on a very private balcony. Not quite high enough to see the stars over the skies of Shanghai, but enough that Hermann understands the sentiment. He remembers old days of sneaking to the roof of the Hong Kong Shatterdome with Newt, trying to parse out the shining of the stars. No one had indulged his passion for the stars the way Newt had, listening with full attention as he spoke of the constellations. 

Newt’s shirt, Hermann observes when he moves his seat closer as they share a dessert, has little inaccurate stars floating through it. If this were Newt of two years ago, he’d find it endearingly charming. Tonight he finds it tacky. He wants to rip it off and throw it off the balcony, along with the equally tacky waistcoat Newt’s wearing over it.

Instead of doing any of these things, he stabs rather angrily at his cheesecake. Newt gives him a gleeful smile, already done with his share of the dessert. The fondness of sweets Hermann has always known Newt to have has dwindled, instead replaced with some excuses about Crossfit or needing to keep trim for his suits. That alone would let him know that Newt is undoubtedly not entirely himself.

“Frustrated about something there, Hermann?” Newt asks, leaning in even closer.

“Not in the least.” He lifts his fork to his lips, taking the bite. If he concentrates on his food, he can ignore the fact that Newt’s hand has moved to his thigh. He’s accepted that there’s a degree of physical contact he can’t avoid, but he doesn’t like to take it to its threshold.

Newt watches him as he finishes eating and then Hermann gingerly pushes the plate aside to the center of the table.

“Can I ask you a question, Newton?” he asks, rather coolly.

“Only if I don’t have to answer.”

“Have you been dating me to get me to sleep with you or because you want to be with me?” He’s asked Newt about this several times, mostly because it forces the Precursors, or Newt, or whoever, to rein in their advances. It feels, sometimes, like he’s talking to a child.

“Honestly?” Newt answers, grinning wickedly. “It’s both, equally. You really underestimate how good of a lay you are, babe.”

“Do you really think after two months this is actually what’s going to work for you?” Hermann reaches for his glass of wine on the table, knocking back the last bit of the glass.

“Well, what is going to work?” Newt exclaims, rising to his feet. “I’m trying to understand you, but you’re fucking impossible.”

Hermann looks up at him, trying to keep the fear he’s feeling from his face. He meant to keep the conversation teasing, not to upset Newt like this.

“Respecting what I tell you, that would be an excellent first step.”

In the span of a few moments, Newt’s face shifts to several different expressions, deliberating and calculating the correct thing to say. 

“You’re right,” is what he settles on, sitting back down in his seat. The resignation on his face seems genuine enough, and he shoots Hermann an apologetic glance. Hermann doesn’t think the precursors are making Newt do this, but he does think they’re allowing it, because they know the impact it will have on him.

He leans forward anyway, pressing a kiss to Newt’s forehead, and mouths the “I love you” against his brilliant head. Objectively, Newt can only guess, at best, that he’s trying to convey a message. Hermann does this for himself, though, as if he needs a reminder of the only thing he knows for certain. Newt smiles at him when he pulls away, but the static is still there, ringing in the back of Hermann’s head. He needs to do something before this never stops.

“Do you have any plans for me for the rest of the evening?” Hermann asks, picking up the bottle of wine and pouring the remainder into his glass. 

“If I told you I was taking you on a helicopter ride over the city, what would you say?”

“I’ve been on a helicopter before.”

“But not a nice one, Hermann. This one’s got leather seats, and it’ll pick us up right from the roof.”

At least on a helicopter, you can’t make too much conversation.

 

The big issue with a helicopter ride is the ensuing rush of adrenaline, the strange desire to become a man of action. In the car back to Newt’s apartment, they’re both thrumming with the same energy, like the phantom memory of being consistently in danger, consistently at each other’s throats. In each other’s pockets, in each other’s beds.

All of Hermann’s best and worst ideas have started and ended with this spike of adrenaline, which explains approximately how they end up kissing in the towncar. Kissing isn’t abnormal for them now, they kiss to say hello, or goodbye, or to pass the time waiting for dessert to come. Hermann’s got his hand tangled in Newt’s hair and his hand on his hip. The static only threatens to drift back into his mind when they come up for air, and is immediately lost when they’re lost in each other. He lets Newt kiss along his neck, leaving teasing bites in the wake of his mouth. This is an old favorite move, and if he moves far enough down, he’ll take the time to suck a bruise that Hermann’s shirt can conceal. Barely.

Hermann does not allow this tonight, though, and he pulls Newt’s head back to capture his mouth in a kiss again. It’s a bit too heated, a bit too promising, and Hermann hates that he has to tease, he hates that he can’t deliver, but he trusts Newt (real, true Newt) to always stop when he’s told to stop. He hopes Newt trusts him with this all the same. Newt presses forward, moves into Hermann’s space so he has to lean back against the car door. Hypersensitive, eager, deprived, Hermann can feel every line of his body pressed against his own. His mind goes completely blank as they move together and he allows his hand to slide down Newt’s body, cupping his ass. This earns a delighted moan against his mouth, the sound as familiar as his own voice.

The car comes to a halt then, nearly throwing Newt off of him completely. They’ve arrived outside of Newt’s apartment and have to disentangle to move upstairs. Hermann grins at him sheepishly as they move out of the car. They wouldn’t have been able to kiss much longer regardless, but he does genuinely feel bad (almost) for it ending so suddenly.

Newt very briefly tries to re-engage in the kissing on the elevator ride up, but when he’s nudged aside, he stands still, biting his lower lip. There’s static between them again, so Hermann knows for certain they’re done for the night, but he definitely wishes for the ability to continue.

Back in Newt’s apartment, Hermann immediately moves to the bedroom to change for the evening. He’s been spending increasingly more time here and how odd it is, he thinks, for him to be the warmest thing in someone’s living space. He warily eyes the screen in the corner of the room. Craning his neck around the corner, he ascertains that Newt is making himself a drink and tapping away on his tablet.

He has to rest his cane against the bed and move without it to guarantee that he doesn’t make noise. While his suspicion has never changed, he still needs to know. He needs to see this brain for himself and know before he moves forward with any of his plans. The screen is solid, but not designed to be enough to keep Hermann out. He suspects Newt wanted him to find out, he’s just not sure if this was for good or evil.

When he peers past the screen, before he processes what he’s seeing, he feels suddenly like he’s not alone. This is absurd, he tells himself, he can hear Newt muttering to his tablet in the kitchen. But it’s not a feeling one can shake easily, when staring at a large tank filled with a dubiously green substance. The brain looks much like the first Newt had drifted with, probably not dissimilar to the second though they hadn’t truly seen that in this capacity. This must be a clone, a recreation. Hermann hates it more than he’s hated anything else in his life and he’s glad he’s no longer feeling the rush of adrenaline, because he would not be responsible for what he’d do.

It’s already difficult to resist the urge to throw the first heavy thing he can at the tank, to smash it to bits. This would accomplish nothing but putting his own life at risk, even if it means a chance of Newt breaking some part of himself free. He thinks of Newt in the kitchen, how he’ll have another drink or two before climbing the stairs to the bedroom. The impulse to create a brain anew could seep in, the siren’s call of addiction.

Beside the tank, after staring it at it with appropriate disgust, he notices a small table. Perched on top of it are two Pons headsets. Hermann’s blood runs cold with the confirmed suspicion. Make Hermann content, make Hermann feel loved, make Hermann satisfied, and bring him to their side. When he’s given himself time to process the fear, he steps away. It’s terrifying, the reality of coming face to face of exactly what he’s facing. Now that he’s seen it, though, he’s starting to realize exactly how he can save Newt from his fate.

Hermann screws his eyes shut, focusing for a few long moments on taking steadying breaths, making sure that he’ll seem normal in the face this terrifying reality. He opts to take a shower, allowing himself a few minutes of pure privacy to process what he's seen.

Newt's shower is large, with several somewhat uncomfortable sprays of water. The first time Hermann had asked to use it, Newt leered at him suggestively until he shot him a rather stern look. There was no more leering or even an attempt to ask for an invitation to join, probably because the whole thing was so damn uncomfortable.

When he returns to the bedroom, Newt’s in the middle of changing for the night. He realizes, standing in the room in just his briefs, this is the first he’s allowed Newt to see him partially undressed in two months. (Not from lack of effort on Newt’s part to undress him.) It takes every ounce of self control he has to not meet Newt’s eyes to gauge a reaction, but he blushes down to his chest, making his interest in the reaction highly apparent.

“Your body hasn’t changed,” Newt observes as he climbs into the bed. Hermann feels self conscious once he’s left standing alone.

“Just older.” Hermann shrugs into a shirt (he has a drawer in Newt’s apartment now, this is probably a bad sign.) “Not all of us have been waking up early to go to Crossfit.”

By the time he crawls into bed, Newt is still watching him attentively. He can’t bring himself to look at any part of Newt besides his face, and even then it’s only brief. They both lay on their backs in bed. Newt drums his fingers against his stomach, idly staring up at the ceiling.

“If I asked you to move in with me, what would you say?” Newt says at length.

“I’d say it’s been two months, so no.”

“But if you include the months we were together before-”

“It’s still a no, Newton.”

“I only feel like I’m myself when you’re here.”

Hermann frowns deeply. He hates that Newt is dangling the truth so precariously in front of his face and he can't do anything about it. Not for the first time, he wonders what would happen if he told Newt that he knows the truth, that he's been trying to help him. No part of him imagines it ending well, but envisioning the look out relief of Newt's face is almost worth it for a moment.

“Newton,” he says, but he's got nothing more to say. That's the full statement. Hermann turns to his side and moves closer, leaning down to kiss Newt softly. “Newt.” Okay, maybe he's got one thing more to say. 

Newt smiles up at him and runs a hand along his arm, stopping at his elbow, cupping it oh so gently. Suddenly it feels to Hermann like he's transported back to his narrow bed in the Hong Kong Shatterdome, his lover soft and eager beneath him and so very overcome with a love so immense and trembling he worries it might break at any moment.

How cruel, he thinks, that anything or anyone thinks they had the right to destroy this. He leans down for another kiss, this one returned with enthusiasm. No one has the right to destroy this but two people, and Hermann can't imagine wanting to in this lifetime.

He deepens the kiss, nipping and tugging gently at Newt's lower lip. Newt mewls against his mouth and his hand grips onto Hermann’s hip. The clarity, the connection between them is smooth and clean like days of calm sea. Hermann wants chaos in this reminder of the drift, but he'll take anything over the static, the locked door, the opaque screen in the corner of the bedroom.

Newt’s leg shifts up, pressing gently against Hermann's groin. He's not sure if it's accidental or on purpose, but he allows it. In return he slips a hand up Newt's shirt, ghosting his fingers along the soft skin of his stomach up to his chest. 

There's nothing in that moment Hermann wants to do than tell Newt how he feels, how much he loves him, but instead he keeps kissing and touching him. He wants to melt into his and he wants- he wants friction, he realizes, bucking his hips to rub against Newt’s leg.

The smile he feels curl against his mouth is wicked in a familiar way, in a way that only sends another spark of pleasure through his body. He teases Newt’s nipple, tugging gently and pulling out the most delectable moan from him. The sound is repeated when he tugs again- he’s forgotten how sensitive Newt can be when he’s worked up. And Newt was very often worked up in their time together.

For a few moments, the blissful moments where he’s rocking against Newt, Hermann knows he’s going to follow through with this. This is Newt, his Newt, and he wants him and Hermann wants to show him that he wants him too. And then the static comes in, deafening and oddly curious. Something about Newt’s body language shifts, he doesn’t stop, but he stills for a moment. Is Newt aware of this? 

“I’m sorry,” Hermann mumbles against his mouth, meaning every word of it, then he pulls away. He can’t do this for much longer, he realizes. Eventually the precursors will realize that when their hold is the strongest, that’s when he pulls away. When they don’t let him have Newt, proper and free of possession Newt, he will not proceed. If he does this deliberately, they will find out.

Hermann rolls back onto his back, leaving Newt shellshocked where he lies beside him. This is farther than he’s let it go since the day on the Yacht. And he’s the one who initiated.

Newt sits up in the bed, his expression shifting from anger to hurt to something in between the two.

 

“What the fuck?” Newt asks, and he’s trying hard to diminish the part of him that’s very angry. He knows, acutely, that no one is ever entitled to sex with someone else.

Hermann shrinks back, likely surprised by the question. “I got carried away.”

Newt moves in a sitting position then, staring down at his hands. They’re shaking and they look foreign to him, like they’re not his own hands.

“You know how much I want you,” Newt continues. “And I don’t expect you to want me the same but...you have to know this hurts me. If you’re going to keep me at an arm’s length- keep me at an arm’s length. Don’t-”

“I’m sorry, Newton. There’s nothing else I can say.” It takes Hermann a bit of effort to move into a properly seated position. He steeples his fingers, then presses his face into his hands, separating them to rub his forehead.

“Are you punishing me for breaking up with you?” Newt asks, because that’s the only answer that makes sense. Hermann doesn’t play games, and Hermann wouldn’t be keeping him on the precipice of this for no reason.

“No! Absolutely not. This isn’t a punishment.”

“Because you do know no one can punish me more than I’ve punished myself already, right?” He laughs bitterly. God, it’s true. He’s felt like he’s been torn apart continuously and never put back together in the correct way time and time again, and he’s felt like he deserves it each and every time.

“I just said I’m not punishing you.”

“Then can I have some sort of explanation? I’m not demanding or insisting, I’m asking.”

Hermann’s expression is painfully soft, which makes everything feel even worse. Newt’s not sure if Hermann still loves him, he’s certainly not sure if Hermann should still love him, but he knows with certainty that Hermann will always feel fondly towards him. He’s tried to reach out and say something in the remainder of the drift, but even those words seem hollow, or impossible to say. He can send feelings and hope that Hermann feels them too, but it often feels like there’s a veil- not that the connection is not there, but it’s being prevented from coming through.

“I don’t have an explanation. I just don’t feel ready.”

“We were halfway there, sweetheart,” Newt says, and he sounds less like himself. “More than halfway, really.”

He does not like the way Hermann suddenly looks paler, or that he knows precisely why Hermann is uncomfortable like this.

“I don’t care how far we were, that’s all the farther I felt comfortable going.”

“Alright.” Newt holds up his hands, a signal of surrender. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch.” That seems like the gentlemanly thing to do, even if he feels a spike in his head like a sudden headache.

“It’s alright.” Hermann really is too good with these moods of his, too patient, too understanding. In their previous relationship, he’d have never humored him like this, he’d have marched out to the couch himself to sleep. Or called a cab. Or done anything to prove to Newt how wrong he was.

Newt narrows his eyes at Hermann, as though he’s taking him in for the first time in his life. As though this is a whole new person in front of him. He realizes that Hermann isn’t really looking at him at all in that moment, but staring over his shoulder at the black screen on the other side of the room. Realization dawns, but he has to keep the thought down, he has to hope he can keep the next thoughts that follow from flowing to the voices. 

Hermann  _ knows.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 6 & 7 will be posted tomorrow and 8 & 9 will be posted on Friday.


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing about Hermann’s plan is sustainable any longer. While Newt does have a surprising amount of patience, it’s Hermann’s own desire that’s betraying him. He suspects if he was unable to give into any advances, he’d be able to string him along for ages, but that seems to no longer be the case. The truth is, he has no possible good explanation to give Newt and he doesn’t want to keep lying to him in any capacity.

It’s been nearly a week since their last date and Newt has been out of the city, thankfully. After Hermann had returned home from Newt’s apartment, that night when they disagreed, he was greeted with another oversized bouquet of flowers. This bunch seems to be made primarily of red camellias. He’s really not sure when Newt is ordering these assortments that they arrive before him, but he finds the personality in the assortment more endearing than the roses.

Now the flowers are mostly wilted and Newt will be returning today. He’s asked Hermann to come over for dinner and Hermann has accepted. That’s the issue, he thinks as he mulls over his lunch, he’s accepted and he’ll keep on accepting but he needs to do something while there’s still enough of Newt left.

It’s a Saturday and the Chois are in the living room, playing with the child who makes up the center of their universe. Hermann envies them, he envies anyone who has something that simple to align their lives around. He has Newt, who is never a fixed object, and the work, which has betrayed him. Hermann rubs his face, suddenly no longer interested in eating. He pushes his plate to the center of the table and reaches for his cane, rising slowly to move to the living room.

“Can I talk to you alone for a moment, Tendo?” Hermann asks. He’s impeded on enough of this family’s kindness, stealing their time, taking a room in their marital home. Selfishly, he’s been hoping he can recover Newt and then move in with him, or find a place with him, so he hasn’t been putting in the time to find new employment or a place to live.

Tendo disentangles himself from familial bliss, ruffling his son’s hair and pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead. The easy affection makes something twist painfully in Hermann’s stomach and he feels the ever present reminder of something he once had. Hermann leads him into his room, gesturing for Tendo to sit on the edge of the bed. He stands before him, shifting awkwardly as he rests both of his hands on his cane.

“You alright, brother?” Tendo asks, hesitant.

“I’ve made a decision about my relationship with Newton,” Hermann declares.

“Oh, that’s great,” Tendo’s shoulders noticeably sag with relief. “Listen I think it’s for the best for both of you and if you’re really thinking he’s actually pos-”

“I’m not breaking up with him,” he corrects. “I’m going to drift with the kaiju brain in his bedroom.”

“You’re what now?”

“Technically, I’m going to drift with Newton and the kaiju brain in his bedroom.”

“N-no. No, you’re not.” Tendo glances around the room, as though there’s someone else he can commiserate with.

“I need answers and I believe that if Newton was re-exposed to the other component of his drift, with someone he was compatible with-”

“What if that’s what Newt wants?”

“Of course that’s what Newton wants. He has two Pons headsets in his bedroom,” Hermann answers matter of factly. Hermann understands now that the Precursors have peered into his brain and they liked what they saw. Or maybe they felt they could subdue Newt more easily if they gave him a companion. Or maybe- He really doesn’t know or care about their motivations as long as he’s right enough to save Newt.

“So you’re giving him exactly what he wants.”

“I think it’s easiest to achieve what I want if he thinks he’s got the upperhand in the situation.”

“I don’t like this plan, Hermann.” Tendo’s tone is profoundly concerned, but it has little impact on Hermann besides eliciting sympathy. “I mean, not to be rude, but besides acting like a dick, is he really being enough of a threat to warrant this?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Hermann snaps. “I don’t know what’s going through his head, but it cannot be pleasant. And besides, he’s head of research and development for one of the biggest tech companies in the world, do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

Tendo, smart man that he is, looks like he’s thinking over the possibility. “Newt is sort of...profoundly anti-capitalist, huh?”

“Indeed he is. So what else would motivate him to take a job with Shao?”

“I mean, his job prospects might be as slim as-”

“My job prospects are not slim, Tendo. I am being deliberate in choosing my future, because I am loyal to the PPDC and want to align my career in a manner where I can return to them when they need me. Newt had planned to do precisely the same. My hope has always been to-” His voice wavers. “My hope had always been to be with him, permanently. And I can’t leave him here now.”

“What if you save him and he doesn’t want to be with you anymore?” Tendo asks bluntly.

“Then I’ll cope with that as it comes. There are worse things to lose in this than his love for me.”

“When are you planning to go through with your idiotic plan, then?”

“Tonight.”

Hermann hears his friend yelp and grimaces. Perhaps he should have told him sooner about this, that he’d intended to move quickly. He can’t possibly handle waiting any longer for this, for his sake as well as Newt’s.

“We’re having dinner at his apartment,” he continues. “I’ll put on some attractive clothing, delicately inform him that I’m aware of the brain in his bedroom, and let him know that I want to drift with it and him, for old time’s sake.”

“Old time’s sake when you both could have died.”

“And we didn’t, as evidenced by the fact that the world is still here.”

He’s not exactly thrilled at the prospect of the queasy feeling that drifting gives him, but it’s a sacrifice he’s more than willing to make.

“I’m going to be honest, brother, if I don’t hear from you by midnight, I can’t guarantee I won’t contact the PPDC.”

“Do what you must, but you will not keep me from moving forward with this.”

Realistically, stopping Hermann from endangering his life is probably low on their list of priorities anyway. He does not pretend to be more valuable than he is. It's not as though he wants to be hurt or die or become possessed himself, but he does want Newt to be safe and himself. More than anything else.

“I’m just letting you know up front. If shit goes wrong and Newt ends up-”

“I will always value your friendship, but if something happens to him that is your fault, we will have to contend with that.”

That seems harsh, but he has to steel himself for the task at hand. He has to be brave and bold and unafraid to face something unspeakably evil. 

 

The first part of his plan is to more or less serve himself up on a platter. Hermann’s dressed himself  more carefully than he usually does, in dark wash jeans and a deep burgundy shirt. He spends about fifteen minutes deciding on the precise number of buttons he feels comfortable leaving undone, hooking and unhooking the third button several times before he leaves it undone out of the necessity to leave. The shirt was a gift from Newt himself, so he’s sure that will add an extra layer of appreciation.

He pauses outside of Newt’s door, smoothing the lines of his shirt and preparing himself for whatever awaits him in the evening. Before he can knock, though, Newt opens the door, grinning at him. 

“I have a camera set up outside of my door. New addition,” Newt explains, gesturing for Hermann to step inside.

“Charming.” Hermann steps into the apartment, navigating his way to the kitchen, where he spies the boxes their dinner came in shoved into a trash bin. “I thought you were cooking.”

“You could have guessed that I was not.” Newt leans up to kiss him. “Though I’m not sure I have much appetite for food when you’re looking that delectable.”

Hermann is really looking forward to normal compliments. Or at the very least, when Newt says these things with a hint of irony. Something in him falters, though, with the knowledge that this interest in Hermann could be something that fades away when the real Newt is revealed. Time alone can kill love, after all. But having nothing with Newt is better than this facsimile, this painted on smile facing him half the time.

“Well I’m hungry enough for the both of us, and now that I know you haven’t cooked the food, I feel confident in eating a large meal,” Hermann lies. His stomach can't possibly handle a large meal tonight.

“Then let’s eat.” Newt rubs his hands together, leading Hermann to the dinner table. It’s set up in an attractive display with a candle and a bottle of wine set out for them. (Champagne, yet again, freshly popped and in a bucket. After this, Hermann is never drinking champagne again.) Newt pulls out a chair for Hermann and he slips into the seat, eyeing up the food.

“Listen, Herms. I really wanted to apologize about the other night, when we had that tense moment. I’m a...complete douche sometimes, honestly.” Newt’s smile is wry and raw. Hermann takes the liberty of lifting the bottle of champagne, pouring himself a glass. When he holds it out to Newt, Newt holds up his hand. “I’m abstaining. I know you don’t like it when I drink too much.”

“That’s all very...thoughtful of you, Newton.” Hermann picks up his utensils. The truth is he’s not hungry at all, but he has to pretend that everything’s normal for this plan to work, right? He cuts into his food, making sure to cut it into small pieces.

Surprisingly, Newt seems to have an appetite tonight, and he’s eating with a gusto Hermann hasn’t seen from him in two years. It pleases him in a small way, though it doesn’t make the task at hand any easier for him. Everything about Newt tonight is designed to please him, he realizes, from the way his hair looks more tousled than he’s been styling it, to the fact that the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows. It’s a pantomime, someone styling Newt the way they think Hermann likes him best.

“How is the food?” Newt asks, with the same level of interest as though he’s made it himself. He’s trying too hard.

“Delicious, of course.” Hermann smiles at him and takes another bite. It is good, another high quality meal. If only he could quell his nerves long enough to properly enjoy it.

They continue to eat in slightly awkward but companionable silence. Once Newt’s cleared his plate, he spends his time staring at Hermann rather pointedly. Hermann is sure that mentally he’s flicking open the buttons of his shirt one by one, which is precisely what Hermann wants tonight, this is the express purpose of wearing the shirt which is rather tight and not particularly comfortable. 

Hermann finishes his food and lays his silverware aside. It’s now or never, he supposes, before knocking down a gulp of the champagne.

“I’m ready. Tonight,” he starts. This is not something he’s going to follow through with, this is just the first step.

“Ready for what?” Newt asks coyly, leaning his head on his hand. His tone sounds teasing and fond, but there’s a disinterested look in his eye that alarms Hermann.

“The thing. That I was not ready for a week ago. Intimacy,” Hermann explains, bluntly but feigning shyness. God, he feels uneasy. He wonders if he shouldn’t excuse himself to the bathroom first.

“Sex?” 

“Yes- sex.” Hermann has a longer and more articulate answer to that, he really does, but suddenly it’s hard to form words, like his tongue is made of lead. “But I have a condition.”

“Alright, go on. It’s not like I’m not used to your conditions.” Newt chuckles and there’s a whole new edge to it, but Hermann can’t tell what it means.

“I know what’s in your bedroom, you understand,” Hermann begins, gripping the edge of the table. The room is spinning and that is certainly new for him. Has Newt’s face always been so blurry?

“We know that you know,” Newt answers, but it’s not Newt’s voice at all. It’s horrifying, something Hermann never wants to experience again in his life.

Then his world goes black.

 

Newt is trying his hardest to scream, but it feels like he’s drowning. The more he tries, the more water fills his lungs, but it’s not water. Or air. It’s nothing.  He hadn’t realized their full intentions until then. He knew, on some objective level, they wanted Hermann, but he thought this was to keep him subdued, to keep him content. Never has it dawned on him that they’d want to harm Hermann in any capacity.

This was unacceptable. This was- it was simply not allowed. 

When he stops trying to scream, he’s breathing, hard and ragged. He refuses to budge, refuses to move a muscle. It’s a scene, with Hermann slumped over in front of him, the effects of the champagne and Newt, Newt remembers drugging the champagne now that it’s done but he doesn’t know how he’s repressed it, how he’s convinced himself it would be okay.

His hands are shaking, unsteady. He refuses to move, but then the roaring comes up in his head, the voices screaming and singing and shouting and demanding and suddenly he realizes that he’s moving, not so carefully hefting Hermann out of his seat, half carrying-half dragging him. Newt’s body is no longer his own, is it? He’s a visitor in his own body, someone who can be cast out at any time, someone who can be locked in some remote attic until needed. And he’s not particularly needed by them tonight.

But there’s someone else who needs him very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the flower language, red camellias mean "my destiny is in your hands" which is apt and fitting and possibly deliberate in the situation


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom for warnings w/ spoilers - there's nothing severe that wasn't mentioned in my foreward or the tags
> 
> I took beaucoup liberties with the concept of drifting in this chapter because, once again, if DeKnight can do what he wants so can I if I make it more romantic. :/

His head feels like it’s going to split open and his mouth is alarmingly dry. It takes a few moments for Hermann to even process that he can see, let alone see anything, but he feels something pressing on his head before he realizes it’s the Pons headset.

“Newton,” he says, feeling the presence of someone else beside him. He realizes he’s sat on Newt’s bed, propped up with the pillows. His hands are tied in front of him, which seems a bit much. “This is excessive.”

“Not Newton,” Newt answers. “Not excessive either. What’s excessive is lying to your poor, insignificant Newton for two months about your intentions towards him.”

“I wasn’t lying,” he states, finding his voice properly.

“Regardless, you ruined the plan, made it a little bit less fun.”

“The plan?” Hermann doesn’t expect an answer, but he has to ask.

“Not the big plan, that one’s gonna be a decade in the making.” Newt’s face splits into a toothy grin. It looks inhuman, unnatural, because it is.

He swallows, assessing what’s occurring. Admittedly, his plan still is in motion, given that Newt has a ridiculous Pons headset on his head as well. He had hoped to be more in control of the conditions of the drift, and maybe for Newt to be present in some capacity as a comfort, but this is still what he wanted. Terror settles in, nonetheless.

“So what was your plan?”

“Wine and dine you a bit,” Newt begins, gripping Hermann’s chin. “Make you feel special. Loved. We’re not good with the human experience, and Newton’s not either, but it’s obvious that your weakness is for entanglements with our little...puppet.”

“He’s not a puppet.” Hermann is indignant and if he could properly feel any of his limbs (he can’t), he’s sure he’d be up in a huff. Regardless, there’s a sharp pain in his leg and his cane is nowhere to be found. He tests his hands slowly, twisting them about.

“We suppose not. To you.” Newt tilts Hermann’s head to each side, as if inspecting him, then slides his hand down to Hermann’s chest, resting it above his heart. “We wanted you to be willing, so hopelessly devoted to your Newton you’d follow him anywhere, but you were very difficult. His heart broke all over again with your consistent rejections.”

“I didn’t want to reject him. I didn’t want to reject you, Newton. You have to believe me and you have to...you have to fight against this.”

For a moment, Hermann thinks he sees a flicker of softness in Newt’s eyes, but it’s an illusion no doubt, a helpless hope he’s invented.

“A week ago, he realized you had figured this out.” Newt gestures over his shoulder, where the screen is now gone. The greenish light from the tank is the only light in the room, and the reflection it casts is surreal, much like everything else about this moment. “And you weren’t going anywhere. So we figured, hey, why not just force him to drift.” His face shifts into a smirk. “It’s easier if you’re willing, but we’ve got about eight more years to will you into obedience, to teach you to crave this the way he does. A connection he’s craved more than anything he’s ever felt with-”

“Oh, be quiet!” Hermann exclaims, and it has no dignity. He doesn’t need this thought shoved in his face now of all times.

Newt grabs his face again, harder this time. “Don’t presume to speak to us like this. We know you belittled him, you mocked him, and we have only made him feel powerful and we will use him to end your pathetic world.” He relinquishes his hold, then pats Hermann’s cheek. “But you should consider yourself lucky, because you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with him, at least until you’ve both become hollow shells of the men you once were.”

“Are you aware how ridiculous you look with that headset on?” Hermann snaps, because he’ll not give into this sort of manipulation. He will not fail.

“Do you think we care what our emissary looks like to his little pet?”

“I'd wager from the way I had you wrapped around my finger, you misunderstand who was the pet in this situation. You spent thousands of dollars in an attempt to seduce me when all I required was a quick trip to a karaoke bar and dinner at a food stall.”

Hermann eyes the control in Newt's hand. There's not too much one can do to manipulate the drift, but maybe, just maybe…

“You're both puny, insignificant creatures. But better two of you than one.”

His hands are tied but the idiotic creatures did not bother to do more than this. They underestimated him, a mistake Newt would never have made. This is risky, he thinks, this is foolish, but he has to get Newt back at all costs. He leans forward, looking up at Newt through his lashes.

“Darling, you do know that I'm terribly sorry for all of this, if you can hear me. I love you very much.”

Newt looks flustered for a moment and Hermann's not sure if it's Newt or the Precursors he's confused but it truly does not matter. In the next moment, he's wrested the Pons control from Newt's hand and pushed the button, sending them both teetering into the drift.

Blue. It's all blue and confusingly bright.

The memories, some the same, some new. Achingly new.

Blue like the way Newt's eyes look in certain lights, inhuman and terrifyingly beautiful.

He sees their dinner disasters, feels the rejection. Feels the love too.

_ Hermann? _

Is this a trap? A trick question?

Newt's eyes are not blue, though.

They're green. 

_ Newton. I'm here. _

_ Oh, thank God. _

The hug feels very real, Newt's warmth pressed against him. The room is familiar, their old lab in Hong Kong, piled high with boxes. Some are unlabeled, but many of them have their names written in outlandishly bold permanent marker. Moving time, Hermann thinks.

Everything is the same as he remembers, except for the crack in the ceiling, the bold hues of the anteverse seeping through. He pulls Newt all the closer for it, cards his hands through his hair.

“I'm sorry I took so long,” he mumbles against Newt's temple. “Can you fight them?”

“I-I don't know.” Newt steps away and Hermann begrudges him the distance. “They're digging so deep, Herms. I've forgotten which parts are me.”

Hermann’s fixated on the ceiling, the chilling feeling it sends through him. “You know which parts are you. They’re all the parts you’ve clearly left here. In this room.”

“If we’re talking literal, I left a lot of kaiju parts here. Some of which I used to clone a brain, which I-”

“I know what you’ve done with the cloned brain, Newton. We don’t need to rehash that. How can I help you?”

He rubs Newt’s arm soothingly as Newt’s face distorts to an expression of panic. There’s nothing he wants more than to take him in his arms again, but they don’t have much time.

“They’re in here too, Hermann. Here isn’t safe to talk about this.” Newt shakes his head. “You caught them off guard, but I can feel it coming in stronger and stronger and stronger.”

It’s true enough, anything they think now is just as much property of the Precursors, this is why their world is spilling in.Their silence is voluntary. Newt’s hitting his forehead with his palm, he’s trying to snap himself out of it, to end this before its time, but neither the Precursors nor Hermann will let him. Hermann reaches for his hand, stills him from hurting himself.

“That shirt does look really nice tonight,” Newt says and it’s the first compliment Hermann’s heard in a long while that he wants to accept. “You look really good.” Newt smooths out Hermann’s shirt, but it’s an excuse to touch. “They told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore and I believed them. They said you were pathetic and useless and- I didn’t believe them but I wanted to because I thought you were just going to grow to resent me. To hate me.”

Hermann looks over Newt’s shoulder, he can see two figures in the corner of the room, huddled together and talking in hushed tones. It’s them, he realizes, their last true night together. Newt is crying even as he says he doesn’t think it’ll work and that seems accurate, though he’s chosen not to remember it. What an awful memory to latch onto.

“I spent a long enough time hating you, it would be a waste of my time. And contrary to my feelings,” Hermann says, resting a hand over Newt’s where he’s rested it on Hermann’s chest. God, there’s that static again. It’s deafening, honestly, and he wonders how Newt has lived so long with it like this.

“And then, suddenly, they decided that you were worthwhile. That you were worth the effort and God, Hermann, I thought they had my best interest at heart because that was my best interest and I...I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of guy who changes for a relationship, it’s just that you’ve got these hands that make me weak at the knees and this mind that makes me weak everywhere else. And you’re in my head and there can’t be anyone else for me.”

“So they made you change.”

“Change more, and I felt like a complete douche, but you stayed anyway and you kept staying and staying and-”

The ceiling splits precariously open then, and the offensive colors spill him. The figures from the memories don’t seem impacted, they don’t seem to notice as they share a final kiss before Hermann, memory Hermann, abruptly turns away, slams the door. It seems secondary, with the static sizzling through the air, like thousands of lightning storms shocking through Hermann’s system. He can barely process anything.

“Newton, you can fight this. You’re strong and I am here with you. I know I- I was the one who left, wasn’t I?”

And oh God, though it was Newt who got the job, who said he had to leave him, Hermann was the one who walked away. Right decision or not, it left Newt vulnerable, it left him in doubt. He pulls Newt into his arms again, wrapping them tightly around him. This time his cane (useless in this not really real world anyway) clatters to the floor, he can’t hear it over the hum of the Precursors. The static message coming in more and more, the hum becoming swarming words- deathHATEhumansDEATHdestroydestroyKILL. He can drown it out, he really can, but he presses his hands to Newt’s ears, holds out the sound, mouthing his “I love you” against his temple again and again even if Newt cannot hear or see him doing so. They’re in the drift together, he has to know.

The earth feels like it’s shaking and there’s the deafening roar and still Hermann keeps Newt close, pressed to his chest. This man does not belong to anyone who he does not give himself to willingly, he does not belong to anyone at all.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Hermann says aloud. “Here or anywhere else.” Newt cannot hear him, but he looks up at him with a smile. It’s not a defeated smile or a wry smile or a wicked smile or anything he’s started to expect from Newt.

No, it’s a dazzling smile, like he’s just found out the most incredible thing in the world. And oh, it’s breaking Hermann’s heart to pieces, or maybe that’s the world around him, shaking and crumbling and-

Oh so very blue.

_ Hermann? _

It’s supposed to be a comforting color.

_ Herms? _

The blue fades again to a flash of green.

 

Everything in those first few moments is blissfully quiet. Newt’s forgotten what it’s like to have a mind free to himself, to fill entirely with his own thoughts, decorated with the same artful chaos he hung posters in his dorm room. He’ll have to relearn this skill but for now he opens his eyes.

Then there’s a new chaos, as he realizes Hermann is not awake, Hermann is moving and he is not awake, Hermann is seizing, and then Hermann is very still. He’s forgotten any training he’d been given in that time, what to do some someone is having a seizure, and by the time he reaches out, it’s too late, isn’t it? He’s so still, Newt thinks, and he’s definitely not processing information right, as he frantically seeks out a pulse. Because he refuses to land on this correct word, because it cannot be the correct word. The blood trickling down Hermann’s nose still looks fresh, still bright and red and God, why can’t he remember how to do CPR and what would CPR really do anyway and-

The door bursts open, there’s footsteps rushing into his apartment, rushing up the stairs and Newt cannot even process how guilty he must look, but he holds his hands up in surrender. Two men grab him, pull his hands away, behind his back and then he’s screaming. It’s the first time he’s able to say what he really means without anything trying to push it forward or down or away in a long time.

“You idiots! Just shoot me if you have to, but take care of him first.” He feels the blood on his face drip into his mouth and he must look positively animalistic, but he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

He can dimly make out that someone with a plastic looking container rushes ahead, rushes into the room, but they force him away. He cannot see and they will not allow him to stay, whoever they are. They, the other They, have taken away the only thing that’s more important than fixing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for temporary (?) character death  
> like not to spoil y'all but probably I would have tagged this if that was not the case, don't worry (maybe?) (I'm kidding)


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing he processes is that his mouth is dry, like he hasn’t had a drink in days, and tastes like thick cotton. For Hermann, this is a familiar morning sensation, but part of him registers that maybe it isn’t actually morning at all. This feels uncomfortably like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. He grimaces, because somehow it feels like he’s been hit with a steam engine and opening his eyes is the hardest thing in the world. There’s a pressure on his hand, something that seems comforting and familiar, something he doesn’t want to lose- the feeling of a clammy hand holding his.

The room he’s in is bright and there’s something clattering to the side of him, like chains. Memories flood back of his impulsive choices, the drift, Newton, the way he felt like he was being torn apart, Newt. Everything comes into view and there he is, leaning forward expectantly, like he’s trying to hide that he’s waiting for something.

“Hey hot stuff,” Newt greets, and it’s not a lewd come on or an exaggeration. It’s just Newt, saying words because they come to his beautiful mouth.

“Hello,” he answers, his voice sounding far too scratchy. “Wha’ happened?”

Newt squeezes his hand. “We can talk after a doctor’s come to see you. Want to make sure everything’s functioning alright.” Newt’s hair is a complete mess, like he’s run his hands through it in every direction, and he looks a bit red eyed, like he’s been crying. Hermann suspects both of these things are true.

“What. Happened?” Hermann asks, more firmly.

“You brought me back and then you had the balls to die on me, bastard.” 

“Died?” Well that certainly explains the odd taste in his mouth. He can’t be certain about the fuzziness of everything else, but from the moments of clarity poking through, he’s certain this is his Newt sitting next to him.

“Apparently for a few minutes, yeah. You’re obviously alive now which is...far preferable in this case. But you were out, uh. Coma for three days. You've been trying to wake up for a few hours now.”

Hermann casts his eyes down and notices that Newt is most definitely cuffed to the side of his bed. That’s...unexpected. Before he can ask about it, though, a tall doctor steps in, smiling at him as she begins an examination after a brusque introduction. He tries very hard not to look or act cross, but finding out he’s died and then been in a coma for the past three days tends to do that to a man. His desire to answer questions or be prodded is remarkably low compared to his urge to ascertain that Newt is, in fact, perfectly himself.

“Apparently your asshole dad cried on the phone when he was told about it,” Newt explains, as the doctor’s still mid examination, shining a light into Hermann’s pupil. “Said I was a good for nothing, bad influence on you. So nothing new there.”

The doctor gives a pointed look to their joined hands and Newt breaks his away hesitantly. Hermann stares ahead during the remainder of the examination. There’s a makeshift PPDC insignia on the wall in front of him, in case he had any doubt of whose custody he was in. (Though otherwise the rest of the room looked like any other hospital room. White bleached to the point of looking dingy, sterile, unwelcoming.)

“How did I get here?” he asks, pointedly directing the question at Newt.

“Apparently Tendo called some guys while the...incident was occurring, and they came in and found us.”

“Tendo.” Hermann thinks he knew this plan (why is everything so bleary so soon after waking from a coma?), but what he does know is that he's grateful for it.

“Yeah, dude. He’s actually around here somewhere. Gonna be pissed off when he finds out he missed you waking up.”

“How did he react to-” Hermann's not sure if he doesn't want to say these words to Newt or if he doesn't want to say them in front of the doctor who is writing on her clipboard.

“I think he's angry, but he hugged me.”

The doctor clears her throat and Hermann snaps his eyes to her. “Yes, Dr. Shearer?”

“So far your vitals look alright for a man who died a few days ago. You're going to have to go through several brain scans before you're cleared to leave, but I suppose you're already aware of this, Dr. Gottlieb.” She levels a glare at Newt.

“I told you the truth, dude! He's the one who pushed the button, not me!” Newt's free hand is up in a symbol of surrender.

“It is true,” Hermann admits. “And I had fully intended to convince Newton to drift with me that very night. I was amply aware of the medical consequences.”

This earns a scowl from Newt. “Yeah, we'll be talking about that when you're better, dude.”

“Dr. Geiszler, I can't make you leave until visiting hours are over, but I do have to ask you not to agitate my patient,” Dr. Shearer adds.

“I'm literally cuffed to his bed. You guys won't let me leave.”

Dr. Shearer glares at Newt again, but it carries no ill meaning. Hermann knows from experience that Newt is infamous for being difficult with doctors, he doesn’t even intend to be, but he asks a lot of questions and makes some very off kilter jokes.

“Do you need anything else from me, Doctor?” Hermann asks as sweetly as he can, hoping to send her away.

She holds up a small remote. “This is what you press if you need me. Or a nurse. Unless you are physically unable to press this button, this is not for Dr. Geiszler to push, understood?”

“Don’t let Newton push the button,” he states. He can only imagine what sort of requests Newt has been making while he’s sleeping.

“You gotta know, Doc,” Newt begins, “I’m very good at pushing his buttons. I have so much experience with it.”

“Please disregard him for the rest of my stay beyond anything necessary,” Hermann instructs.

“I fully intend to. You need to rest, Dr. Gottlieb, don’t let him distract you,” Dr. Shearer says.

Hermann blinks at her a few times in blatant disregard for her instructions and waits until she’s stepped outside to continue.

“Why are you handcuffed to my bed?” he asks, because that seems pressing.

“It’s not exactly the first time I’ve been, Hermann,” Newt jokes, then his face shifts into something more serious. “I’m technically still in custody, I guess? After the drift they arrested me, obviously. I mean, you were dead, we were both hooked up to a kaiju brain, I deserved it. Tendo eventually vouched for your mind control theory and because people like him, they were going to let me go and then...they found three separate plans to end the world on a tablet in my apartment.”

“Newton.” Hermann reaches for his hand, squeezing it as tightly as he can manage, which isn’t very tight at all. “That wasn’t you. I, of all people, know that wasn’t actually you.”

“Sure as hell feels like it was me,” Newt says, sniffling. “It all feels like it was me, planning all these things and now I don’t have a job and I doubt the PPDC would consider taking me back and that’s like...best case scenario where I’m not in jail.”

“But it wasn’t. They were in your head, and you and I both know that.”

“God, Hermann. I was such a dick to you.” Newt’s crying now and Hermann lets him. “I mean back then when I broke up with you and then-” He stares down at their joined hands and then pulls his away. “I treated you like an object or a conquest. Trying to buy you things so you’d love me again, so you’d-” He recoils completely, his expression slipping to one of disgust.

“And I was purposely leading you on to keep you close, because I suspected something was wrong. Neither of us is wrong, but neither of us is blameless in this.”

Newt shifts his gaze to Hermann then and there’s a hurt in his eyes that Hermann can’t quite place. Then the realization dawns. This thing between them is left undefined now that Hermann isn’t dating Newt for the sake of freeing him.

“Perhaps that was poor phrasing, darling,” Hermann corrects. “The desire to be in a relationship with you was true, but I was never going to sleep with you in that state.”

“So you were going to hold out on all these charms?” Newt uses his free hand to gesture to himself. He's still crying, but his spirits have clearly lifted. “Indefinitely?”

“Yes,” Hermann answers drily. “I need to sleep now.” He abruptly feels the weight of how tired he is, even if he’s just woken. There’s a pang of hunger he can’t ignore, but he will deal with it when he wakes. The prospect of being in the hospital for several days makes him miserable, if he’s honest with himself. Newt takes his hand again, lifting it to his lips to kiss the back. There are worse ways to spend time in the hospital.

 

The next time he wakes, Newt is curled up in the hospital chair as best as he can with one arm cuffed, and he’s sleeping. Next to him sits Tendo, scrolling through his phone. There’s no indication how much time has passed but Newt is wearing the same clothes as earlier. Hermann’s IV itches and he wants nothing more than to rip it out. 

“Tendo,” he half-whispers.

“Well, hey.” Tendo puts down his phone. “Got a very excited message from Newt that you’d woken up and then when I got back here you were sleeping.”

“Apologies. Apparently I died, so I think I’m allowed to do as I wish for some time.”

“You’ve gotta take care to not do that again.” Tendo grins at him. “But your plan worked.”

“Not the way I had intended, as I’m sure you know, but it did work. And your plan to...protect me ultimately saved my life.”

“So you owe me one, brother. Don’t think anything of it.”

“You let me stay in your home, you humor me when dating a possessed man, and then you save my life. You are truly incredible, Tendo Choi.”

Tendo preens under the praise for a moment and then leans forward, resting a hand on Hermann’s knee. “I’m just trying to be a good friend and help out someone I went through something really awful with.”

Something warm blooms in Hermann’s chest and he smiles, but that smile falters when he catches sight of Newt. “Are they going to let him go?” 

“I don’t know.” Tendo sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I yelled at Marshall Hansen earlier today about it, but unfortunately there’s not a lot of proof he actually was possessed.”

“But they trust him enough to be alone in a room with a man he basically kidnapped.”

“I fought very hard to get him in here, actually. I have no real authority with the PPDC anymore, but Hansen has loyalty.”

“Where exactly are we?” Hermann asks, because it dawns on him he’s never bothered to ask.

“Still in Shanghai. PPDC’s got this hospital in their back pocket, so they wanted you to have care where they can monitor you and make sure your brain’s still alright. It’s kinda a shit situation.”

“It is indeed shit.”

They share a grin. Newt shifts in his chair then, slowly unfolding as he awakens. He rubs his wrist, frowning a bit, but Hermann catches his eye and he immediately shifts into a smile. Hermann feels something so bright it can’t be contained. 

“I’ll leave you two to keep catching up, visiting hours are almost over,” Tendo says, rising. He grips Hermann gently by the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re doing well, brother.”

“Thank you.” Hermann smiles at him.

He gives a squeeze to Newt’s shoulder on his way out and then he slips out the door. Newt waits until Tendo’s fully gone to speak.

“They’re gonna come uncuff me and take me to my uh- I wouldn’t say cell, but I wouldn’t not say cell, soon,” he explains.

“Newton, we’re not going to allow them to do this to you.”

“Herms, it’s alright. I know you’ll figure it out. But right now, you’ve gotta focus on getting out of this hospital. I know you hate hospitals.”

“I’ll cope. If you come to visit most days, I’ll be content.” Hopefully most days means no more than two. Or three.

Newt takes his hand and kisses it, the same way he did earlier. Hermann appreciates the gesture, but what he really wishes is that Newt would kiss him the proper way.

“I’m gonna aim for making you happy, if that’s alright,” Newt says.

“Content will do for now, once you’re free I will be happy.”

Someone steps into the room then and clears their throat. Newt looks up at the person with recognition and a very fake smile. It’s not his painted on smile, but one that’s designed to be pointedly fake. Hermann likes it well enough. He holds out his wrist and the person, pulls out a key and unlocks the cuffs. There’s a moment of hesitation before Newt rubs his wrist.

“Hermann, this is uh- Benjamin, right?” Newt narrows his eyes, waiting for the person to nod. “He’s my handler until the people who I helped save the world with realize I’m innocent.”

“Ah. Hopefully our acquaintance will be a brief one.”

Benjamin shrugs.

“Can you turn around for a minute, Benny?” Newt asks. “Hermann won’t tell, I won’t tell, you won’t see anything you don’t want to see.”

“One minute.” Benjamin holds up a finger and pivots to face towards the door.

Newt steps forward and leans down, just enough to take Hermann’s face in his hands. Hermann feels his face flush because while he’s been thinking about just this, he’s suddenly self conscious about it.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he states, but leans into the touch anyway.

“I’ve kissed worse.” Newt grins at him. “So can I?”

Hermann reaches for him, gripping Newt’s wrist, rubbing the sore skin where the cuffs had rubbed. “Yes.”

Newt presses his mouth to Hermann’s and it’s so heartachingly tender that Hermann’s really not sure if he’s survived at all. Surely he’s still dead. He kisses back, probably a bit too eagerly, but he hasn’t realized how much he’s missed this, unguarded kissing. When Newt pulls away he’s smiling softly, leaning up enough to press a kiss to Hermann’s forehead. Hermann’s preoccupied with the thought that this was the best kiss he’s had in years.

They stay close together, both unwilling to move. Benjamin clears his throat, signaling that it’s time for Newt to go. With a perhaps too dramatic sigh, Newt pulls away.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Benjamin says, oddly reassuring for such a large and stoic man. “Assuming he doesn’t annoy the shit out of anyone tonight.”

“I’m charming, Benny, and you know it.” Newt winks pointedly at Hermann and he blushes. Hermann’s almost forgotten what it actually takes to get him flustered, he’s been playing a game for so long.

“Goodnight, Newton,” Hermann says, closing his eyes. He’s not tired, and he’ll likely buzz to request food, but he wants Newt to feel content to leave. 

He’s coming back tomorrow, after all.

 

Newt’s been spending a lot of time in his head. Mostly, he’s doing this because it’s the first time in a long time he’s able to do this, but it’s also to bide the time while he waits. He has to wait to figure out what his future holds, to wait for Hermann to be released from the hospital. After two days, they’ve at least allowed him into Hermann’s room without the handcuffs, though Dr. Shearer has given him the very strict condition that he is not allowed in Hermann’s bed with him. (He’s terrified, he thinks, of touching Hermann in the wrong way anyway. He wouldn’t dream of it, despite the strong urge to crawl up next to him.)

Hermann rests most of the time and it’s boring without him. Even when he’s not asleep, he’s not always up for conversation, especially after the first day or so when he’s gotten most of the necessary information to be fully aware of the situation. He supposes for Hermann it’s different because they’ve just spent two months talking about their lives, but Newt’s been in a conversation where he has trouble getting a word in edgewise. That, it turns out, is true torture for him.

Tendo stops by around dinner time and they talk for a brief while. Newt asks to see photos of his child, which he hadn’t bothered to do before, and coos over him just the right amount to make Tendo beam. Newt can tell he’s still wary, but that’s to be expected. He’s a bit wary of himself sometimes, if he has to be perfectly honest. Hermann’s too preoccupied with his meal to care about the conversation, and Newt’s sure that he’s immune to the charms of the child (Rupert, which Newt thinks is a fitting name) at this point in time. Still, if there’s something that warms his heart thinking about Hermann with a small child, he’s going to hold onto that and keep it close.

“Are you coming back to us?” Tendo says abruptly, turning his attention to Hermann.

Hermann looks between Tendo and Newt, unsure of what to say. Newt doesn’t have any guidance to give him, only hopes. Pages and pages of apartment listings with immediate vacancies in web browsers.

“I don’t believe I have anywhere else to reside.”

“I have enough money,” Newt cuts in, because he can’t resist. “Just for a few months. Not my old apartment, something smaller. With less stairs.”

“Newton, you really should be saving that money, you’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle.”

That’s probably true enough. To a degree, Newt loved the nice dinners and the ability to do what he wanted. He loved being able to buy gifts for Hermann. But he also finds there’s a level of dinginess he’s always going to crave, a desire for a simpler life that allows for chaos, mess. Destruction of the wonderful and very much so not evil variety.

“And where do you think I’m going to go?”

“I know your fate is currently uncertain in many regards.”

He shakes his head. “They're giving me the all clear. Well, I'm on parole, essentially, but I don't have to stay in this city.”

“How?” Hermann asks, sounding skeptical.

Tendo bites back a grin. “Yelling, mostly. And the agreement that he has to be minded at all times.”

“It cannot be that simple,” Hermann states. “Did you two do something awful I'm not aware of?”

“Newt did call Hansen a fascist again, but I don't think that personally had much impact.”

“Honestly, Herms.” Newt reaches for Hermann's hand. They don't touch as much as he'd like. This is fully Newt’s doing and he knows it. “As long as you continue to support your theory we've got this. The main concern for the first few days was more that I was still evil than that I was an actual threat. Granted, the really objectively cool world ending plans did lead to me being cuffed just a bit longer. Your brain scans prove that you and I drifted with a third presence and as long as I let them scan my brain at intervals-”

“You are not being their lab rat for your freedom.”

“Dude. It's not like I wouldn't do this to myself.” He's already thought of the options, how to study himself and the effects this drift has had on him. There's so much data lost already. Even worse, there’s so much time lost and he’s willing to do a good deal to make up for it.

“So what type of place are you two thinking of, then?” Tendo asks, grinning between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with many writers, I took gross and dramatic liberties with how hospitals work. This is just who I am as a person.
> 
> The Choi child was lovingly named by Jay, who I have lovingly tortured with this fic.
> 
> Working title for this chapter was "Tendo Ex Machina"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title for this chapter was "Newt Won't Put Out"

They move into a studio apartment. It's only temporary until one or both of them secures a job and until Hermann can do much more than sleep and sit quietly. Being forced into this stillness feels like torture. Still, he’s impressed that Newt was resourceful enough to find them a place within such a short amount of time. He’d tried to bring up the subject of staying in Newt’s apartment until a new place was ready, but Newt insisted it was already done. Hermann chalks this up to a final show of his soon to be forever gone wealth.

Hermann sits idly by for the first few days, perched on the edge of their bed while Newt puts the apartment to rights. (The only furniture Newt bothered to keep was his bed and couch, largely for convenience.) Newt is very good with his hands, making sure nothing is leaking or assembling some cheap bookshelves they bought. Unfortunately for Hermann, leaking faucets and IKEA shelves are about all Newt's putting his hands on these days.

It's not that he misses overly forward Newt and his innuendos, it's just that this version who only holds his hands or his face when he kisses Hermann isn't right either. Newt in all forms has always been particularly handsy and now they're living together, sharing a  _ bed  _ and he's suddenly a gentleman. This will not do.

He's watching Newt assemble a coffee table, his brows knit together in confusion as he holds up what appears to be an excess board.

“Newton,” Hermann says, tapping his cane on the ground for good measure. “Why don't you take a break? You've been assembling furniture all day.”

“I don't mind.” Newt beams up at him. “Keeps me busy. Distracted.”

“Distracted from what, precisely?” 

“The trauma of having an alien hivemind in my head, Hermann.” Newt gives him a look like this is painfully obvious. He supposes it is.

“Do you want another distraction?” he asks, hopeful.

“Just give me a moment, babe.”

Hermann frowns and he knows Newt thinks this expression makes him look like an overgrown amphibian. Newt has also said he finds it oddly endearing. (The word he used was cute, but Hermann knows how to interpret what he means.) “I'm about to rest for a bit, if you'd like to join.”

“I'm gonna finish this coffee table.”

He slides back up the bed, pulling back the covers. The easy thing to do would be to just say what he wants. Up front. But that seems difficult at the moment, because he knows Newt is going to protest, to treat him like a fragile thing that he can break. He’s been out of the hospital for several days now, and the doctor hadn’t said anything in particular about physical activity. (There was a look, alright, but that was three days ago.) Instead, he lays still in bed and tries very hard to sleep. 

 

When he wakes, it’s dark outside and Newt’s sitting on the floor next to the bed, his cheek pressed to the mattress. He’s reading something, but isn’t that invested, judging by the way he shifts to look up at Hermann the moment he hears a noise.

“There’s an entire bed up here, Newton,” Hermann mumbles, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

Hermann would believe that more if it weren’t for the awkward drool spot he’s left on his pillow. “You do realize that I’m not actively injured or suddenly more delicate than before, right? I’m more tired because I’m used to being in an awful hospital room all day where all I could do is sleep. And I survived a rather traumatic event. In fact, you should be sleeping more to aid your healing.”

They already have what Newt has delicately referred to as “his and his” therapy appointments scheduled for next week (mandated by the PPDC). Hermann insists that subjecting himself to a rather unhealthy relationship in order to save his boyfriend is not grounds for this, but Newt vehemently disagrees. So he’ll go and talk about his feelings.

“I know, Herms.” Newt grips the edge of the bed and hefts himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Hermann.

“Explains why you offered to sleep on the couch for the past several nights.” 

“I kick and I grab onto whatever’s near me when I sleep.”

“Oddly, I don’t believe that is in the long list of complaints I’ve filed about you,” Hermann remarks. “Are you afraid of what might happen?”

Newt huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh and rubs the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “I guess? I just didn’t like how forward I was when they were...in my head and I know you’re still recovering from that dying thing…”

“First of all, Newton,” Hermann shifts so he can sit up properly, “you’ve always been forward. I used to walk into my room with you lounging naked in my bed on a regular basis. Secondly, I spent two months with you unable to touch you how I wanted. I think we deserve the right to touch each other how we both want.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Newt leans down to kiss him softly. “Dude, I think I can manage that.”

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you romantically using awful American slang at me?” Hermann asks.

“I have so many times I called you baby to make up for.”

“You do.” Hermann pulls him in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around him as he does. Before long, Newt is grinning against his mouth and shifting into his lap. He hesitates for a moment, but then slips a hand under Hermann’s shirt, sliding it up to his chest. Hermann’s hand rests on top of his hand, directly over his heart.

“I love you,” Newt says, moving to kiss along his jaw. “Thank you for saving me, for putting up with all that shit, for still being with me after everything.”

“I love you, too.” Hermann releases his hand, only so he can reach down to grab a handful of Newt’s ass.

Newt moans against his mouth. “Ruining the moment there, honey.” He shifts away, stripping out of his t-shirt. It’s delightful, Hermann thinks, being able to take his fill of this sight without any guilt. The better thing is that he can touch, he realizes, running his hands down Newt’s chest. “Just so we’re clear, this is the best my body’s gonna look. Ever, because I am not going back to CrossFit ever again.”

“Best is highly objective.” Hermann’s hands slide down on a journey to the waistband of Newt’s jeans. “I love your body however it’s presented to me.”

“Speaking of presenting bodies…” Newt reaches for the hem of Hermann’s sweater and Hermann pulls away long enough to allow Newt to lift it over his head. “That’s the view I’ve been looking forward to. Well, half of it.” Because he’s been doing little more than sitting around their studio, he hasn’t ventured more than the simplest and warmest of clothing. There’s been no complaints about the lack of layers.

“You’ll have to get off of me for the rest of the view.”

“The flannel pajama bottoms are rather arousing, though.” He shifts off Hermann’s lap anyway, fumbling off the bed so he can slip off his own jeans and boxers. Under normal circumstances Hermann would reprimand him for leaving the pile on the floor, but he’s too charmed by the way Newt sticks his tongue out to remove his socks to care. “Alright, now to do you,” Newt says, placing a hand on his hip in a rather humorous pose.

“Do me?”

“Do off your pants,” Newt answers, flustered. His cheeks have turned a charming shade of pink. “Please.” He shifts back onto the bed and Hermann has to stop for a moment, giving an appreciative glance to all of him.

Hermann lifts his hips and Newt takes the cue to shift off the pajama bottoms and his briefs for good measure. When he’s fully divested of his bottoms, Newt rubs tenderly at Hermann’s bad leg, the long healed scar on his thigh. He leans down and kisses along the length of it, a reverence that was once incredibly familiar. Which will be familiar again, Hermann realizes, and it thrills him.

It doesn’t take long until Newt’s intentions become more clear, as he kisses closer and closer to Hermann’s inner thigh. Hermann allows him, threading a hand in his hair. With a glance up at him, Newt starts to place kisses along his shaft. He takes his time, licking along the underside of Hermann’s cock before he takes just the head into his mouth, holding still for a few moments before he takes in more. The rhythm he sets up is irregular because he’s not in the best position for this, but it does the job well enough. Hermann moans softly, tensing his hands further in Newt’s hair.

“I don’t want to-” Hermann huffs out, tugging Newt’s head away. “This is going to sound odd and it may be the only time I say this, but I want to hear you. The whole time.”

“Softy,” Newt mumbles, sitting up and wiping his mouth. “Next time, though.”

“Next time, of course.” He cups Newt’s cheek and leans forward to kiss him. The kiss is almost immediately heated, filthy, open mouthed. They both run their hands over each other, eagerly re-learning something they hope to remember forever. Hermann notices that Newt’s hands are shaking and he reaches out for one, stilling it where it rests on his waist. “Relax, relax. It’s okay.”

“I can’t fuck this up. I don’t want to fuck things up anymore.”

“Newton.” Hermann presses a kiss to his forehead before gently shifting him into his lap. “Do you have any idea how happy I am right now?”

“Well,” he answers, just a bit hesitant, “I have some idea given the circumstances.”

“Incredibly happy.” He kisses him properly again just to prove the point further. This time it’s Newt who ruins the romance of the moment, rocking his hips slowly. The feeling of Newt’s ass rubbing against his cock is enough to drive him mad.

Hermann slips a hand between them, wrapping it around Newt’s cock. He strokes slowly as he moves his lips to a sensitive spot behind Newt’s ear, mouthing at the delicate skin there.

“Hermann! Fuck!”

“Oh, darling,” Hermann practically purrs, rocking his hips as much as he can with his lap full of Newt. “I forgot how beautiful you sound when you’re coming apart.”

Newt reaches out, grips onto Hermann’s shoulder tightly. It’s been too long for Hermann and he suspects the same is true of Newt. No matter, they have ages and ages for the slow and drawn out. He strokes him harder as Newt cants his hips into the touch. Newt tries to kiss him again, but the way he’s moving makes it difficult, and it should be unappealing, the way he ends up mouthing at Hermann’s mouth and cheek, but it only makes him feel desired. Needed. Craved. Loved. When Newt comes, he presses his face into the crook of Hermann’s neck, groaning loudly as he does. The vibration of the sound courses through Hermann, straight to his cock.

There’s soon a hand wrapped around that cock, Newt’s beautiful, sturdy hand, stroking him between their bodies.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Newt asks, and Hermann feels the full authentic admiration of the statement this time. He feels like he’s gotten something so pivotal and tender back finally.

“No, care to, ah, care to tell me?”

“Watching your hands when you type or write is so fucking hot, the way you use your fingers. I think of you fucking me with them, elegant and slender and so skilled.”

He flushes across his chest and rocks up into Newt’s hand, pleased at the praise.

“And that mouth, Christ, Herms,” Newt continues, though the words are coming in between kisses he’s now placing along Hermann’s neck. “Thinking of how it looks stretched around my cock, that thought alone filled so many of my fantasies for two years.”

The telltale signs of impending orgasm are there, the tightness, the brightness- just a little more.

“And your ass, babe.” Newt stops to suck a bruise along Hermann’s neck, the pain keeps him just on edge rather than pushing him over. “The way you’ve been lounging in bed, I just want to turn you over and spread you out, kissing and licking and sucking on you until you’re rocking back against me, so hot and wet and needy and- fuck Herms. Then I wanna fuck you into the mattress. Can I do that to you sometime?”

Hermann nods all too eagerly and it’s that request and the accompanying visual that pushes him over the edge and he’s spilling over Newt’s hand. Carefully, Newt climbs off of him, padding to their small bathroom. After collecting his breath, Hermann allows himself to slump onto the bed, covering his face with his arm. That wasn’t too much exertion, maybe, but he should be careful to take it easy.

The wash rag is all but thrown at him and he sits up to wipe himself off before he places the rag on their small nightstand. Newt returns to the bed after a few moments, sitting on the edge as he scrolls through his phone.

“You are not bringing distractions to this bed so soon after sex, Newton,” Hermann demands.

“I’m ordering us dinner. I’ve still got to pamper you, don’t I?” Newt sticks out his tongue.

“I will miss all of the new shirts. And the overdone floral arrangements. Less so your insistence on drinking expensive champagne with every dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m done with champagne forever.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Hermann slowly sits up. “Any chance we can still go on a yacht again?”

Newt laughs, then shakes his head. “You know, I think that’s not in my current budget, but I’m glad to know you probably weren’t dating me for my money.”

“Oh, I was. But now that we’ve had sex again and I’ve realized how good it is…”

Hermann leans in to kiss away the dramatically cross expression that’s on Newt’s face. It’s only a few moments before he melts into it. He wants to tell Newt all the cliches, that he doesn’t care about money, that he only cares that Newt is safe and happy (and naked, but truly that’s secondary), but instead he keeps kissing him for the sake of kissing him. That’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to everyone for reading this. A reminder you can find me on tumblr @ pendragoff, or twitter @ newtguzzler (nutguzzIer if you're nasty- that's a capital i not an l)
> 
> I appreciate comments if you enjoyed this! And kudos! And shrieking! Please come into my inbox and shriek at me!

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "If I Had a Gun" from Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ pendragoff and twitter @ newtguzzler


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